


Magic and Progress Do Not Speak as Loud as My Heart

by patster223



Series: Magic and Progress [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, First Time, Hermann is a Muggle, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Magic and Progress series, Newt is a wizard, Newt sucks at keeping secrets, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 08:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1143661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patster223/pseuds/patster223
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt's time with the PPDC mostly involved trying not to jinx his Muggle lab partner, resisting the urge to let his tattoos move on their own, slipping potions in Hermann's tea, pining for his dragons, failing to keep a secret (multiple times), saving the world, and maybe falling a little bit in love. Amongst other things. </p><p>The AU in which Newt is a wizard and sucks at hiding it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic and Progress Do Not Speak as Loud as My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> My wizard!Newt AU that I wrote as a last hurrah before my winter break ended. I messed with the timeline a bit so that Hermann and Newt begin working together in 2018 rather than 2020, and arrive at the Hong Kong Shatterdome in late 2023/early 2024 instead of 2020. The title is a bastardized Coldplay lyric. Enjoy!
> 
> EDIT: And mad props to [glassvines](http://glassvines.tumblr.com/post/80532991870/here-have-a-bunch-of-tiny-newmann-doodles-all) and [irishsparkleparty](http://irishsparkleparty.tumblr.com/post/84398313045/i-bet-hes-called-hermann-this-at-least-once) for making art for this fic, omg thank you <3

When Newt found out that he and Hermann were to work together, just a year after having sworn to never see each other again, the first words out of his mouth might have been: “You’re shitting me.”

Hermann pursed his lips, the action somehow dominating his entire face until it was a pinched, consternated disaster. “While I don’t condone Dr. Geiszler’s _typically_ unsophisticated and unprofessional language, I must return the sentiment.”

Marshall Tang winced, but before she could begin to mediate, Newt and Hermann were at each other’s throats, throwing barbs and retorts at each other in a squabble that seemed doomed to mirror their first – and final, they’d hoped at the time – conversation, which had ended with the two of them screaming at each other in a crowded conference center. Their current argument had flared up within seconds, surprising even Newt with its force. Clashing with Hermann was as natural as breathing, a fine-tuned tennis match of disparaging remarks about the other’s research and character, counter-attacks and insults being thrown before the other had even finished the thought that was the subject of that abuse.

 _This is what they mean when they talk about drift compatibility,_ Newt despaired. Except that instead of being compatible as family, friends, or lovers were, Newt and Hermann were compatible as rivals, as intellectual adversaries of a sort. The only person that Newt had ever felt this connected to, and the thing that connected them was the fact that they’d both felt that same tug of hate-at-first-sight.

Even Tang could seem to sense it, and cleared her throat in what seemed something like amusement. “Gentlemen, please, it’s time to get to work. For the sake of the rest of your K-Science colleagues.” Tang looked pointedly at said colleagues, who were staring at Hermann and Newt as if they were watching a boxing match. At Tang's look, they dispersed back to what they were doing, only keeping half an eye on their conversation instead of two wide ones.

Tang smiled at them both. “Yes, I have a feeling this could work out quite well, if you don’t kill each other by the end of the day.” With that, she walked away, leaving Newt to gape after her and Hermann to throw a belated salute her way. Newt snorted at the gesture, which only reignited their quarrel. Only a minute into their argument, Newt realized with dismay that the beaker next to him was shaking, too imperceptibly for anyone else to notice, but enough to make Newt’s cheeks burn with embarrassment as well as anger. Newt hadn’t lost control of his magic since he was a kid and he certainly wasn’t going to break that streak now, not because of _Hermann._ Newt stopped speaking and took several deep breaths until the shaking subsided in both the glassware and his own trembling hands.

“You’re impossible!” Newt cried over whatever the hell Hermann had been talking about while Newt had been desperately composing himself. He threw his hands up in defeat and went back to his work station, leaving Hermann to simmer at his chalkboards.

By the end of the day, Hermann – who at that point in time had the full use of both of his legs – had chased Newt around the lab, cursing him the entire time. Newt, initially stunned in disbelief by this, kind of had the time of his life leaping over his own desk to run away from Hermann, whooping and name calling as he led Hermann around the lab. No doubt they’d get complaints from their colleagues, but for now, Newt was more exhilarated than he’d ever felt while riding a broomstick.

At the end of this ordeal, Hermann’s breaths were shallow, sweat had thoroughly mussed his fringe, and his jacket was half-hanging off his body – in other words, he looked completely and utterly _wrecked_. Hermann panted and gave Newt a glare so full of shock and betrayal that Newt thought, _oh, I get it, I make you lose control of yourself too._

And yeah, Newt hated it, but he could admit that he’d been a little bit in love with Hermann from the very start.

 

When Newt received a letter of invitation to attend an American academy for magic, Newt’s Muggle father was stunned, to say the least. Newt, though only eleven years old, simply took this event as confirmation of something that he’d already known: he was special. He’d been told he was special from the moment he could understand the words, already a child prodigy with half a high school diploma under his belt by the time he received the letter. Being magical, being something other, being a _wizard_ was something that Newt just took to be his due. This same entitled attitude tended to put his colleagues off, but well, they weren’t the ones with six doctorates and a wand, were they?

Except that Dr. Hermann Gottlieb only had _one_ doctorate and no wand whatsoever, and yet managed to be the one person on the planet who could outmatch Newt. Newt, who was supposed to have a genius intellect _and_ magic on his side, which should theoretically give him _some_ kind of advantage over the mathematician. Instead Newt found his own wits easily matched by Hermann’s, and in their arguments Hermann met Newt jibe for jibe and then some.

That was the thing about Hermann: he didn’t _need_ magic to be extraordinary. His brilliance and intuition outshone that of any wizard Newt had ever met. To be honest, most wizards were fairly ordinary in the first place when you got over the fact that they could make the dishes do themselves, but Newt suspected that Hermann was far more exceptional than even the brightest wizards that Newt knew.

For a small period of time, Newt had actually been fairly confident that Hermann _was_ a wizard, because when he first read about Hermann’s predictive model and his coding of the Mark 1 Jaegers, Newt’s first thought was, _oh, he’s using Arithmacy._ Newt’s stomach had fluttered as if he’d been reading love letters instead of scientific papers, because he had been so sure that he’d found another person like him, someone who’d decided to say _fuck it_ and combine magic and science in a messy, hazy, beautiful marriage that just might be able to save the world.

At first he’d been a bit disappointed that Hermann was a Muggle, but there was just no reference to any Hermann Gottlieb in the wizarding world. It was the loss of a confidant, of someone who would've had the potential to understand Newt better than anyone else. This disappointment quickly gave way to excitement as Newt realized the enormity of what Hermann had done, admiration burning his stomach in a fierce flare of wonder. This was a guy who, in the absence of magic, had instead created an indistinguishable facsimile through the sheer force of his own brain power and stubbornness. Hermann wasn’t the least bit magical, and yet he was hashing out greater Arthimacy than any wizard that Newt had ever known. Newt could acknowledge that his crush on Hermann, or at least his major science boner for him, had started with this realization.

Of course, once he and Hermann actually met, it all went a bit to hell, but even the kind of rage he’d felt upon their first meeting had felt a bit like magic.

 

Newt lasted about a week before finally giving into the urge to hex Hermann’s blackboard, causing it to write colorful insults on itself each time it was left alone in the lab. Of course, it wasn’t as satisfying as Newt had thought it would be, mostly because Hermann just assumed that Newt had written all of those things. Leave it to Hermann to ruin a perfectly good piece of magic by not _knowing_ about it, though Newt could admit that the argument that ensued because of it had been one of his all-time favorites. Newt had ultimately removed the curse by the end of the day, but he still gave himself a pat on the back for jinxing the blackboard instead of Hermann.

He continued to jinx the blackboard every now and then, which he convinced himself was a nice, healthy outlet for his feelings. It was certainly better than setting Hermann’s boards on fire like he _wanted_ to do sometimes, and which he actually almost _did_ do one day. During one of their more inflammatory arguments, the kind that their colleagues tended to either leave the room or put headphones on for, Newt had been astonished to notice the thin curl of smoke trailing from the corner of the board. He’d quickly caught himself and reigned in his magic, cursing, but Hermann had still noticed the black singe on the board later that day and had had a nice shout about it.

It was ridiculous, really -- nobody could make Newt lose control like Hermann did. So it made sense that, every month or so, Newt needed to relieve some stress and pressure by cursing Hermann’s belongings. Morally, Newt felt pretty alright with that. Besides, by the end of the year the hexed chalkboard didn’t even faze Hermann, which, admittedly, did nothing to keep Newt’s slowly – ugh, who was he kidding, _rapidly_ – building crush at bay.

 

On a particularly slow work day, Newt found himself scrubbing at his face in an effort to keep himself awake. He and Hermann were the only two there, the rest of the lab having gone home for the weekend. Newt’s eyes wanted nothing more than to slip shut, and he'd already discovered that slapping himself accomplished nothing but leaving him with stinging cheeks. “Hermann,” Newt groaned, only to receive a vague hum in reply. Looking over, Newt saw that Hermann was in one of his moods where he was so deeply engrossed in his equations that it would take nothing less than an earthquake to shatter his reprieve. Or just Newt.

“Hermann!” he yelled. “Hermann, Hermann, Hermann! Herms!”

Hermann’s eyes dragged themselves away from the blackboard to settle on Newt. “What is it?” he growled.

Newt was pretty sure Hermann didn’t intend for Newt to find that tone of voice arousing, but that was definitely the effect it was having. Newt let his head hit his desk, resting it there as he tried to get his blush under control. “This is boring!” he shouted. “This is so incredibly useless, tedious, and below my pay grade that I cannot believe they are making me do it. I’m a _genius,_ I do not having time to work out this budget. Come do it for me,” he wheedled, secretly delighting in the despair that settled in Hermann’s brows at the pitch of Newt’s voice. Newt tried to mimic the mathematician’s accent for maximum Hermann annoyance: “Come on, Hermann, this is bloody awful.”

Hermann sighed. “You may be circumstantially European, Geiszler, but that does not give you the right to use British slang without sounding like a wannabee Anglophile. And while your chosen field remains impractical without a platter of Kaiju organs at your disposal, I’m still confident that you learned enough during your tenure at _MIT_ to manage your department’s budget.”

Newt blinked. “ _Wow_ , how do I even start to refute that? Well, a) of course I _can_ manage a budget, Hermslice – don’t argue with the nickname, the nickname is staying – but I have way more important and interesting things to do than this, unlike _you_. Also, I cannot believe you exist, because b) Biology? Impractical? Try existing in this reality for a change or at least try watching an episode of Bill Nye, and then get back to me. And finally, c) I can use all the British slang I _bloody_ want, Hermann, because I am _way_ more than circumstantially European. I take offense to that, dude, I lived in Germany and England for, like, half my childhood!”

“Not enough to have a proper accent,” Hermann muttered, which was not a good enough response to what was, frankly, a beautiful and intricate tirade. However, Hermann then surprised Newt with his next comment, which was, “When did you live in England?”

Hermann looked genuinely curious and Newt winced. _That time I went abroad to a magical school where I learned how to transform chalk into toads – sorry about that, by the way, but the face you made when you found them was priceless._ What he actually said was, “When I was 13 I spent a year at a British boarding school, with an exchange program.” Newt gave himself a quick mental back on the back for thinking up such a great backstory on the fly, especially a backstory that wasn’t even a lie, way to go _him._

 “Oh,” Hermann said, looking unexpectedly pleased, an expat having found a fellow countryman. “Which boarding school? Perhaps we went to rival schools. It would be just as well if we did, would lend a sort of cosmic irony to all the quarrels you instigate.”

“Uh.” Maybe Newt would retract that mental back on the back that he’d given himself, because at this juncture in time, it didn’t seem well deserved. Newt was having flashbacks to when he’d defended his first dissertation except that this was somehow worse, probably because Newt had no facts whatsoever to support what he was saying. Worse, he had facts, but they were _not_ the kind that he could tell Hermann. Newt was a genius though, he could think of something to say, just make up a boarding school or- “None of your business.”

Or that. Before Hermann got over his indignant sputtering enough to attack Newt’s non-answer, Newt hastily added, “It was more in Scotland than England anyway. Well, kind of-” Newt cut himself off before he shoot himself in the foot anymore than he already had. “Anyway, it’s pretty obscure, you wouldn’t know the name of it. Also, quarrels _I_ instigate? Seriously, Hermslice? I’m pretty sure that you instigate at _least_ half of our ‘quarrels,’ which is a word I did not that people from this century still used, so thanks for that.”

It was a messy comeback, but it did the job of baiting Hermann into an argument and distracting him from the whole boarding school thing. Newt wasn’t quite sure that Hermann forgot about it through – later, when they’d both returned to their work, Newt feeling strangely rejuvenated from their bickering, he looked over to see Hermann giving him a considering glance, which transformed itself into a scowl upon Newt’s observation of it. They both quickly looked away from each other, Newt feeling twin butterflies of _oh crap he is cute_ and _oh crap he is suspicious_ fluttering in his stomach.

Luckily -- whether he forgot about the incident or not -- Hermann dropped the whole boarding school thing, not electing to bring it up to Newt again. Hermann was pretty good at simply attributing Newt’s magical peculiarities to Newt’s eccentric personality, something which Newt felt oddly touched by. He wasn’t entirely sure he deserved Hermann’s simple acceptance of him. Not that Newt was a bad guy, but when you added up all the jinxes Newt had put on Hermann’s stuff and all the lies he’d told him, Newt racked up quite a few Wizard Asshole points. He felt a bit bad about that, actually. Though, even without knowing about Newt’s secret tally of his own Wizard Asshole points, Hermann still didn’t deign to help Newt with the budget, so maybe Newt didn’t feel all _that_ bad about it.

 

Newt’s year at Hogwarts had been easily one of the formative ones of his life, even more so than the year he decided to join the PPDC. There were dozens of wonders available at that castle to uncover and explore, its secret passageways practically an invitation for any curious enough student, its library stuffed full of spell books that might have been older than the castle itself, its surrounding grounds filled with magical creatures that Newt had never even _heard_ of.

The latter was easily the most important to Newt, as he frequently found himself wandering into the Forbidden Forest when his Care of Magical Creatures class didn’t go into the kind of detail he so desperately craved. He searched for doxy nests, ran into a few Hippogriffs, and tried to strike up conversations with the centaurs (who actually managed to be less sociable than _Hermann)._ Studying the creatures in the forest, Newt found himself as breathless and wonder-struck as when he’d first seen magic performed. Of course, Newt got punished more than a few times for his trouble, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, sneaking his copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ – and no, Newt did not find having the same name as the author nearly as funny as everyone else seemed to – into detention and writing notes in it when he could. Because even though his classmates seemed content with just that book’s information, Newt needed to know _more_ – more importantly, _he_ needed to be the one to discover it. There was a serious dearth of knowledge in the field of Magizoology and Newt was going to be the one to remedy that.

It was astounding, the things wizards overlooked because they had magic. Newt was dismayed to find out that Mendel barely _existed_ in the wizarding world, that Darwin was hardly even _discussed_. Wizards knew how to breed dragons, but didn’t know which chromosome affected the hardness of a dragon’s scales; they knew how to keep a dragon’s fire at bay but didn’t even consider the evolutionary pressures needed to create beasts that could expel flames from their _mouths._ It just didn’t make sense to Newt. Muggle science had no choice but to ignore magic – they just didn’t know any better – but wizards had a real opportunity to combine the two and they just didn’t care enough to take advantage of it.

Newt was going to fix that. As soon as he returned to America, he started taking correspondence courses in biology at the local college, spending the entire summer reading everything he could get his hands on about genetics and Magizoology. All of his Slytherin ambition became channeled solely into his goal of rocking the entire wizarding world with his discoveries, with his glorious, haphazard blend of magic and science that would be unlike anything the world had ever seen before. Well, until Hermann came up with his predictive model anyway, but Newt was pretty sure he was the only one who thought there was any magic in that.   

 

“It’s nice,” Newt said, glancing at Hermann’s chalkboard and shrugging. “I mean, it’s all completely theoretical and useless, but hey, the equations sure look pretty.”

Hermann’s face turned the color of a tomato. “ _Pretty?_ ” he seethed. “You’re calling my latest predictive model _pretty_ , as if I were merely a child asking for praise after drawing nothing but scribbles?”

“They’re very nice scribbles, Hermann,” Newt said, waving his hand in disinterest, already turning an eye back to the section of Kaiju heart that he was working with. 

“ _Pretty_ ,” Hermann scoffed again, nearly shaking with disbelief. “If only I could say the same thing about your _disgusting_ play toy of an experiment, though I must say that I’m in complete agreement with the phrase ‘useless’ when it comes to your work.”

Newt, whose hands were covered in Kaiju blood, had to resist the urge to tug at his hair and scream. “I am working with actual, physical objects, Hermann! You’re working with…with…” With _magic_ , he wanted to say, the fight going out of him as he thought it. Hermann had managed to concoct an elegant combination of magic and science without even knowing what magic _was_ , which Newt admired and loved with a ferocity that frightened him.  It made Newt want to yell at him, want to shout, _you’re beautiful and your math makes me want to cry because you blend magic and science together better than I do, but this is still just Arithmacy, these are still just guesses that you’re making without realizing that magic barely applies to the Kaiju, barely applies to reality, and I can’t believe you’re thinking about bombing the breach when you should know – you aren’t magical but you_ use _magic, you should_ know _– that without understanding these things and what they do and how they work, this plan has no chance of being successful. Magic is about understanding that there’s_ more _to this world and you’re disregarding that right now, and_ that’s _why I call your work theoretical at best._ Better yet, Newt could shorten all that up and just scream at Hermann, _stop being such a Ravenclaw and help me actually get something done!_

Unable to say any of the things he wanted to, Newt abandoned his previous sentence and just shook his head. “I can’t argue with you right now, I’m busy trying to find some actually useful knowledge. If you need me, I’ll be right here, getting concrete results. Let me know when you want to come to your senses and start saving the day like a rockstar instead of coming up with stupid plans that won’t work.”

Hermann’s eye twitched but he turned his back on Newt, resolutely focusing on his blackboards. “Honestly, Newton, must you always be going on about being a rockstar?” Hermann muttered. “You’d think that it’d escaped your notice that the PPDC is actually trying to _save humanity_ , not cater to your ego.”

Newt sighed, suddenly remembering why he’d had so many tempestuous relationships with the Ravenclaw students back at Hogwarts. They were so focused on whatever piece of knowledge they’d gleaned that they couldn’t see the big picture – it was exactly what Hermann was doing right now with this whole bomb-the-breach thing. Though with all his talk of having a duty to humanity, Hermann definitely had a bit of Gryffindor in him, Newt mused. He glanced back at Hermann, who was once more fully engrossed in his equations. Hermann stared at the chalkboards as if he were looking into another world, his lips moved as he silently ran through his calculations. If Newt could see his eyes, he was sure that he would have a hungry look in them, a desperate need to _know_ burning through them.

Newt quickly shook his head, smirking as Hermann rubbed his forehead without realizing that he was smearing chalk on himself. _Oh yeah,_ Newt thought as he returned to his work, _definitely a Ravenclaw._

As illustrious and ancient as Hogwarts was, the idea of a cultural exchange was still a new one in a wizarding community so recently torn apart by war and fear and suspicion. Less than six years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the castle and its students both still had their scars, and while they welcomed Newt with open arms, Newt couldn’t quite shake the feeling of being a guest in someone else’s home. Still, wizards tended to be fairly accepting of Newt’s eccentricities and the Hogwarts kids found his accent amusing, so Newt found it easy to slip into the routine at the castle, luxuriating in the damp and chill of the dungeons in the evening, roaming the grounds whenever he had spare time, and making friends amongst housemates who understood what it meant to want to make a name for yourself.

Unfortunately, Newt found the elitist stereotype of the Slytherin house to be partially true. There were plenty of students there that couldn’t give less of a shit as to who Newt’s parents were, especially the younger students and third years Newt shared classes with, but Newt still encountered a few blood purist assholes during his year at Hogwarts. And yeah, he might have gotten in a fight or two about it and Hogwarts was probably sick of giving him detentions at that point, but seriously, who could blame him?

It was enough to make Newt question whether he belonged in Slytherin, if maybe the Sorting Hat had gotten a bit mixed up by putting him in the pure blood house instead of Ravenclaw or something. The worry crept on him gradually, incrementally nudged along by the sneers of passing Gryffindors and the prejudice that other houses couldn’t help but feel towards Slytherins only five years after the war. To Newt and many of his American classmates the war was already history, but history lived and breathed in Hogwarts, and some house rivalries never died out.

It was weeks before Newt got up the courage to ask someone about his Sorting, deciding to corner one of his roommates, Dara. Newt liked Dara, liked how upfront and straightforward he was in a school where insults and rumors tended to occur behind peoples’ backs. Newt had never wanted anything less than brutal honesty and respect from his peers, and Dara was one of the few people who gave those both to him in abundance.

After Newt had asked _listen, man, sorry if this is a weird question but does the Sorting Hat ever make mistakes, like, did it not notice that my dad’s a Muggle when it put me in here_ without pausing for breath, Newt winced at the realization that this was more than a bit personal of a question.

It Dara thought anything of it, he didn’t say so. Instead, he patted Newt on the shoulder in reassurance and said, “Relax, Newt, the first years always ask.”

“Uh, not a first year,” Newt pointed out.

“You may be a third year academically speaking, but you were only sorted this year – you can be an honorary firstie.”

“That’s cause I’m an exchange student, you _dick_ ,” Newt said as Dara ruffled his hair. Newt squirmed out of his grasp as Dara tried to tried to destroy Newt’s carefully cultivated look, dodging Dara’s hands as he jumped to the other side of the room. 

Newt pulled his wand out of his pocket, twirling it between his fingers as he kept a safe distance between himself and Dara, who was shaking with laughter.

“Shut up,” Newt said, unable to stop from grinning. “I will use this wand, and I will _invent_ a charm that ruffles your hair all day and you’ll look like a complete idiot for the rest of your life and I’ll never tell you the counter-curse.”

Dara laughed helplessly. “Oh, Newt, I can’t believe you think you’re in the wrong house, ‘cause what you’re going on about is exactly what it means to be a Slytherin."

Newt raised an eyebrow, frowning as he tried to see what Dara was getting at. “Slytherin is all about…messing up people’s hair? Because I could have sworn that the Sorting Hat talked more about elitism and cunning than hair jinxes.”

Dara gave him an unimpressed look. “Don’t be an smartarse, Newt. I mean that you know what you want and you get it, moron. Even if you have to jinx me to make it happen.” Dara rolled his eyes at Newt’s wince. “I’m not saying you’d actually do it, but come on, Geiszler, have you ever let other people stand in your way when it came to doing what you need to do? Your detention last week says otherwise.”

Dara walked over to Newt and messed up his hair again, grinning at Newt’s scowl. “I know it makes some people uncomfortable, but it’s just ambition, just cunning. They aren’t _bad_ things, though I guess I can’t blame people for thinking so, given our house’s history.”

Newt blinked. “I guess. I dunno, I guess I just assumed that it would put me in Ravenclaw.”

“That’s because you’re a conceited genius who’s too aware of how smart he is.” Dara cocked him a grin. “Honestly, Newt, just yesterday you told me, and I quote, ‘Dara, you’re looking at the best Magizoologist in the world – get Newt Scamander’s ass off the chocolate frogs, cause I’m going to be greater than that dude ever was.’ You’re a Slytherin, just accept it.”

Newt felt at ease for the first time in weeks when Dara gave him a smack on the back that nearly sent him flying, the motion at odds with the kindness of Dara's words: “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a rockstar, mate.”

 

All throughout Newt’s last year of school, he felt an itch down his spine that he could never quite seem to touch, no matter how close he got to his Muggle undergraduate degree or how many hours he logged in the Dueling Club to try to seek the kind of release that he normally could find there, engaged in battles that were just as mental as they were physical. The only thing that remotely eased his restlessness were his walks on the grounds, breathing the crisp air and filling notebook after notebook with drawings of the creatures he found there. But even that began to feel too small, and the day after graduation, Newt said goodbye to his dad and took a Floo to Europe. With the help of his test scores in Care of Magical Creatures and his almost frightening enthusiasm, Newt managed to find a job at a German dragon sanctuary after only a few weeks of wandering the country and documenting the beasts that he encountered. _Finally,_ he thought, his mouth twisting into a wild, probably alarming grin when he first saw the creatures. _This is what a rockstar studies._

Newt yawned loudly as he settled his chin onto one arm, doodling absently as he waited for his tests to run.

“Don’t you have better things to do than draw on my latest reports? Like perhaps _read_ my latest reports?”

Newt glanced up to see Hermann leaning slightly over him, frowning disapprovingly at his sketches. Newt cleared his throat, unprepared to suddenly be so close to the mathematician. Keeping his eyes resolutely focused on the page and refusing to stop drawing even with Hermann looking on, Newt shrugged. “I did read them, _Hermann_. And now these reports are serving a far higher purpose by relieving my boredom while I wait for these _useful_ test results.”

“I’m so glad that my accomplished and decorated career in mathematics is being utilized so thoroughly by this department. I can think of no higher purpose than to be curing your boredom,” Hermann said, glowering at Newt.

Newt grinned at the comment, but mostly at how Hermann was actually looking at the doodle with some interest. “Me too,” Newt said cheekily, and Hermann rolled his eyes before giving the drawings a final disparaging look.

“Drawing dragons of all things,” Hermann muttered. “Don’t we have enough monsters in this world without imagining _more_ of them?”

Newt could only stare at Hermann before bursting into laughter. Hermann actually jumped at the suddenness of it, which only made Newt laugh harder, wheezing and holding onto the edge of his desk as he tried to gain control of himself. Hermann, seemingly torn between the choice of being perplexed or affronted, only shook his head before returning to his blackboard, determinedly ignoring Newt’s sporadic giggle fits throughout the rest of the day.

Before Hermann came in the next day, Newt drew a Common Welsh Green on his blackboard, an inside joke only he seemed to find hilarious, laughing softly to himself as he took far too long to sketch in the British dragon’s features. When Hermann walked into the lab, he predictably rolled his eyes upon noticing the drawing. “Really, Newton?” he muttered.

“Anatomically correct, just for you,” Newt said.

“I’m so glad you got the fictional anatomy of a _fictional_ creature correct while no doubt procrastinating working on the Kaiju anatomy that you should be focusing on,” Hermann said, treating Newt to an exasperated look. He didn’t erase the drawing though, which made Newt’s stomach feel as warm and full as if he’d just had a pint of Butterbeer.

 

After receiving his first paycheck at the dragon sanctuary, Newt apparated to the nearest town and wandered until he found the menagerie his co-workers had told him about. Owls perched on all sides of the room, cages hung from the ceiling and were strewn about the floor, and in the back Newt could see a fish tank that spread the entire length of the wall. Before Newt could catch more than a glimpse of the slick, long creature that swam in the tank, the shopkeeper called, “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yeah,” Newt said, reluctantly taking his eyes away from the tank, reminding himself that he was not here for anything but an owl, that there were bets going on back at the sanctuary as to whether Newt could _manage_ to come back with only an owl. Already Newt was itching to run around the room and touch every creature in here, but he focused instead on the wall full of nesting owls, meeting their unimpressed gazes. “Any owl in particular you recommend for someone on a budget?” he said weakly.

“First time buying one of these?” the shopkeeper asked, smiling encouragingly.

“Yeah,” Newt admitted. “I just moved here and I’m having a hard time finding a post owl that can keep up with the correspondences I need to send.”

“Call one down,” the shopkeeper said, nodding to the shelf of birds. Upon Newt’s skeptical look she explained, “Every owl here can send your post but if you want to find one you can get along with, you’re going to have to try them out.”

Newt nodded and cooed to them like he'd done to other birds in the old forest near his childhood home. Most only looked at him haughtily, but a few gave Newt a considering look. Newt pulled out a few strings of meat left over from his day at work and glanced at the shopkeeper. “Do you mind?” he asked, and held the pieces lightly in his hand at her shrug.

“You’re pretty decent at this,” she noted as he cooed again.

“Magizoologist,” Newt grinned. “After working with dragons all day, this is a cake walk- Ow!” One of the owls had hopped onto his arm and given his ear a light nip before taking the meat and flying off.

“A cake walk, huh?” the shopkeeper smirked.

Newt shrugged. “Okay, so I’m just starting out. But just you wait, someday everybody’s going to know my name.” He glared at the owl that’d bit him and she flew down again to land on his arm, only nipping at his hair this time before looking him coolly in the eyes.

“She’s a bit feisty that one,” the shopkeeper admitted. “A bit on the small side too. Good news is, that makes her cheap. Name’s Etta, if you want her.”

Newt met the Etta’s gaze before he lightly stroked her feathers and the owl cooed lightly, allowing the contact. Newt felt his heart swell and knew that he was already too attached, but couldn’t keep a grin from spreading across his face. “She’s perfect,” he said.

 

Newt adored working at the dragon sanctuary, unable to believe that his job was to work with and study the most fascinating creatures that he’d ever seen, that at night he got to lay on the grass and sip beers with his co-workers while watching Etta make lazy circles through the sky. Newt was pretty sure that he could spend the rest of his life trying to figure out exactly what made the dragons tick.

But then that restless feeling crept up his spine again after only a year away from home and Newt thought _it was supposed to go away here_ , but every week that he studied the dragons only brought his old frustrations bubbling to the surface as he wanted to know more than wizarding research methods were able to give to him. He purchased subscriptions to Muggle science journals and read them avidly while his co-workers shrugged their shoulders and accepted it as one of Newt’s many eccentricities. They joked that Newt wasn’t satisfied with only being _one_ of the foremost dragon experts in the world instead of simply the foremost expert, and while they kind of hit his Slytherin tendencies on the head there, that wasn’t all it was. What truly drove Newt to pace around the sanctuary instead of sleeping was that, for all that he knew about dragons, he still didn’t _understand_ them. He didn’t know enough about not just the magic, but the _science_ that allowed the beasts to be both beautiful and terrifying at the same time. It was like seeing the world with one eye covered, and now that Newt was so close to what he wanted it drove him to distraction more than it ever had before.

One night, while he was walking around the grounds to cool off after spending a day tending to the furnace that housed the unhatched eggs, his thoughts worked into a frenzy by the idle nature of the work, Newt’s boss, Karl, approached him and said, “You know that you can leave any time.” Newt nodded, unable to hide the fact that the thought of leaving had been preying on his mind for awhile.

Karl held out a hand and Newt shook it, swallowing heavily as his boss pulled him into a quick hug. “You love these dragons as dearly as I do, Newt,” he said. “Whenever you are done with what you need to do, there is a place for you here.” Newt nodded again, unable to hold back his tears as Karl walked with him around the sanctuary, the two of them watching the stars twinkle and the dragons gleam overhead. 

 

When Newt arrived at MIT, he was just as astounded as he’d been when he’d first seen the dragons in the sanctuary. Even having devoured science journal after science journal, Newt was plainly amazed by everything that was going on here, by the anticipation and excitement in the air that seemed like a brand of magic onto itself. Genetics, neuroscience, evolution – Muggles were leaps and bounds ahead of wizards in all of these fields. Hell, Muggles were even starting to figure out artificial tissue regeneration _without_ magic! Even having grown up in the Muggle world, Newt was surprised at the level of creativity that Muggles were forced to use without magic there to help things along. It was beautiful; it was a level of innovation that Newt hadn’t found in the wizarding world and it was happening on a daily basis at MIT. He felt as if he were a first year in school all over again, taken aback by every new piece of knowledge or bit of technology.

Etta accompanied Newt to MIT, for which he was grateful, as he couldn't but feel a bit alone no matter how many people he met in his classes. An ocean suddenly separated him off from most of his wizarding friends and Newt found himself a bit lost in jeans after having worn robes for so long. He made up for both by posting his regards to local Magizoologists and wearing clothes that were outlandish enough to give him some comfort amongst the boring choices available in Muggle fashion. His skinny ties and boots may not have gotten him respect, but they gave him the confidence needed to bridge the two worlds he was straddled across. 

Newt apparently had forgotten a lot of things about living like a Muggle, because he hadn’t considered that it would be harder to house an owl at MIT than it would be at the dragon sanctuary. Luckily, Muggles were pretty good at ignoring what they didn’t care to know about, and hardly anyone noticed that an owl flew from Newt’s window each night as long as Newt put a silencing charm around his apartment to keep Etta’s screeches under wraps. Newt became found of bouncing his ideas off of Etta, ranting to her about his theories once he discovered that Magizoologists who believed in his quest to blend magic and science were few and far between. Etta tolerated these chats, bringing him dead rats and perching on his shoulder while he talked at length about how _amazing_ these Muggles were, how amazing their discoveries were. Of course, they had no idea what these discoveries could truly _mean_ , how gene mapping could be used in werewolves to find a potential cure or how it could allow for more selective dragon breeding. Newt's research – both Muggle and Magizoological -- ran the length of five years and six doctorates – he was a magical _and_ a genius, he could afford to be a bit impossible – and he soon found himself teaching at MIT, much to his own surprise. Despite his Muggle job, Newt kept a careful foot in both worlds, lecturing about biological engineering one day and heading out to study dragons at the local sanctuary the next.

Newt’s immersion into the Muggle world came to a head after K-Day, after even wizards and witches found themselves struggling to face the impossible. Every single person on the planet, magical and non-magical, were searching for answers. Newt found himself overwhelmed with information and possibilities, calling every west coast biologist and Flooing every Magizoologist with a fireplace to confirm what he’d already known: no one had a clue what to do _._ These beasts weren’t magical: they were bigger than magic, _better_ than magic, spells slid off them like they were nothing. It was terrifying, but instead of freezing in horror like so many other wizards had upon realizing that their magic had suddenly become useless, Newt felt himself being called towards the Pacific coast. Newt travelled to San Francisco, took samples back to MIT, and ran Etta crazy with all the letters he was sending to wizards on the other side of the country. Hell, he ran _himself_ ragged during his research, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that this was it, that he’d always planned to be a rockstar, to show the world what he could do; it just so happened that now he was going to do it by saving the world. 

One night, when Newt was delirious with exhaustion but unable to fall asleep, he read through the latest scientific reports, his hands shaking as he did so. He read proposals of the mecha and mind melding technology that Muggles thought could save the world. _Creativity is the one thing they have over us_ , Newt thought upon realizing that if anyone was going to save the day, it was going to be the Muggles.

He looked over at Etta, who looked at him considering before flying across the room and screeching in his ear. “Fine, fine!” Newt cried. “I’ll join, okay?”

He flew to the LA Shatterdome to meet with a PPDC recruitment officer the next day. He gave Etta away to a local witch a month later. He was unable to bring himself to regret the decision: Etta had been miserable in the Shatterdome, only able to escape Newt’s tiny room when he'd had time to sneak her to the roof, which had been less and less frequently as he'd settled into his work.

Putting an invisibility charm on her and smuggling her into the lab to give her more freedom had only brought Hermann’s wrath upon him once the mathematician found evidence of her nightly hunts: “Dr. Geiszler, there is a _multitude_ of dead rats scattered around this office, most of which are centered around _my_ desk. I know you think you’re being sneaky, but whatever pet you’ve acquired is not above leaving droppings in the lab, and I will not tolerate it.” There was no use explaining to Hermann that Etta brought him those dead rats because she _liked_ him, but even he’d been able to do so, it still wasn’t worth keeping Etta locked up in the Shatterdome.

The witch he’d given Etta to, Sandy, had a large grassy yard that was miles away from the ocean, and Etta immediately took to the sky once Newt let her out of her cage.

“She’s beautiful,” Sandy said.

“She sure is,” Newt sighed. “I’m sorry to part with her, but there’s just not room for an owl in the Shatterdome. She much prefers it here, I can already tell.” He watched Etta let out a happy screech as she flew in lazy circles above them.

“You’re PPDC?” Sandy said in surprise.

“I know it’s a bit strange,” Newt said, the words worn out from having been used to explain his decision to so many other wizards, “but the Muggles are dealing with this and I have to help them. Didn’t think I’d be giving up Etta when I joined though,” he admitted. The owl in question glided down to Newt and sat on his shoulder, cooing gently at him as if in reassurance.

The witch nodded. “I’m sorry you have to part with her, but I have to admit that I’ll sleep easier at night knowing there’s a wizard at the PPDC,” she said. She looked at Newt and hesitated. “Dude, you’re giving her to me for free when you clearly adore her and you’re doing it just so that you can help out the cause, so I don’t feel weird saying this: she’s still yours, Newt. If you ever leave the PPDC or if this whole…Kaiju thing ever clears up, you can come back and get her.”

Newt’s eyes stung with tears and he quickly cleared his throat to compose himself. The stress of the job and lack of sleep were already getting to him, he reasoned to himself. “Thank you,” he said finally. “I’ll come back for her someday, once I fix all of this.”

“Oh, you’re just going to ‘fix’ all this then?” Sandy said, smiling.

Newt grinned. “Of course. Who else is going to do it?”

Despite his relief that Etta was free of the cramped, busy Shatterdome, Newt couldn’t help but mope around the lab a bit, sighing loudly and adding owls to the dragons he already doodled on his notes. His arguments with Hermann became tinged with a bit more viciousness. Newt tried to rationalize with himself that it wasn’t Hermann’s fault he’d had to give Etta away -- he would have had to do it anyway, whether Hermann had said anything or not. Nonetheless, their spats became more childish on both their parts, the rest of the lab wincing every time they sensed one brewing.

After two weeks of this, Hermann sighed and retrieved something from beneath his work station. Hermann stomped up to Newt’s desk and placed a fishbowl on it, scowling at Newt’s gaping stare. “For the love of God,” Hermann said, clearly uncomfortable, “Newton, just take the fish so that you can stop moping around and the rest of us can get some work done.”

Unable to restrain himself, Newt jumped from his desk and squeezed Hermann around the middle in joy, ignoring Hermann’s sputtered protests at the contact. And if Newt rested his head on Hermann’s chest for a fraction of a second, well, Hermann couldn’t just do things like this and expect Newt not to fall for him a little bit more. “I’m calling it Hermann Jr.” Newt said proudly, already cooing at the fish as Hermann looked on in dismay.

 

Newt absently chewed the end of his pen while looking over his notes, not quite seeing them for actual words yet, given the minimal amount of caffeine he had in his system. He and Hermann had moved from LA to Vladivostok at the end of 2020 and it wasn’t long before Newt had needed to pull out the Slytherin scarf from his trunk. He hadn’t worn it since moving to LA, but the colder climes had necessitated it, the lab practically a walk-in freezer. Newt had almost moaned with relief after putting a heat charm on the scarf and pulling it over his head. Vladivostock was a _bitch._

Glancing up as Hermann walked into the lab, the pen dropped out of Newt’s mouth as Newt gaped at Hermann in shock. Hermann was wearing a parka. But not just any parka: a huge, green atrocity with a furry hood of all things. Newt needed to know where Hermann had bought that thing and whether or not its monstrosity warranted it an entry in _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ Honestly, it was like Hermann _wanted_ to be teased, wanted Newt to yank down that hood and laugh at him and maybe smooth Hermann’s hair out – it would be flat because of the hood, but probably really freaking soft – and then-

Okay, stop. Go to jail, fuzzy feelings nestling around Newt’s heart, do not pass go, do not collect 200 dollars.

“Newton?”

Newt blinked and realized that he’d been openly staring at Hermann for an indeterminate amount of time. His cheeks felt hot as he looked casually back at his notebook. “Yeah?”

“Are you feeling alright? You look feverish,” Hermann said, acting uncharacteristically concerned when Newt would have really just preferred to be ignored or yelled at. As it was, he blushed even more at Hermann’s words and wanted nothing more than to punch himself in the face for it.

“I’m fine!” Newt said, probably a bit too loudly. “You know, probably just coming down with a cold or whatever, don’t sweat it. Nice parka, by the way.” Newt was proud of himself for managing to inject some sarcasm into the last sentence.

Hermann rolled his eyes. “It’s warm.” Then Newt felt a hand rest clinically on his forehead and he had to suppress a yelp at the sudden contact, his eyes jerking up to meet Hermann’s. Hermann’s lips were pursed and his eyes seemed to be trained on all of Newt at once, as if studying him.

“You should be fine,” Hermann said, letting his hand fall away. Newt mourned the contact as Hermann continued to speak: “Though why you are wearing that _ridiculous_ and overlarge scarf while running a fever, I cannot imagine.”

Newt self-consciously ran a hand over his green and silver scarf, eyes narrowing. Even if Hermann didn’t realize it, he was directly assaulting Newt’s Slytherin pride by insulting his scarf, which, to quote Dara before one especially memorable brawl, _meant that he was a bitch who had to be taken down_. “I’m so glad to have your expert medical opinion, _Dr._ Gottlieb," Newt said. "Oh _wait_ , your doctorate doesn’t actually apply here, does it? I mean, not that it really applies _anywhere_ except as a way to pass time in a classroom, but I still think my doctorate _s_ and the actually useful nature of their study makes me a bit more qualified to judge how sick I am. And this scarf is awesome, by the way. If we’re going to talk about ridiculous and oversized things, can we please bring that parka back into the discussion?”

Ordinarily Hermann would easily rise to those remarks and they would have had a grand argument, but today he only cast his eyes upward in desperation. He sighed and briefly closed his eyes before shooting Newt a withering look. “You are exhausted and feverish. I am exhausted and feverish. Tomorrow I will lecture you at length upon the vital role that applied mathematics has in the PPDC _and_ in biology, but for now, I am going back to my desk.”

“Uh…okay,” Newt said, unable to look away from Hermann as he retreated back to his own work station. Now that Newt looked more closely, Hermann _did_ seem a bit flushed himself, and unlike Newt, the red in Hermann’s face was definitely not coming from inconveniently timed parka-related boners. The mathematician seemed slightly unsteady on his feet, his eyes slightly glazed over as he absently tooled with his simulators.

“I’ll be right back!” Newt yelled before running off to his room, rummaging through his trunk before finally uncovering his potions kit. Newt didn’t have the time to dedicate to making potions these days and was relieved when he saw that he still had some Pepperup Potion left. Newt snuck it back into the lab and went straight for the kettle on Hermann’s side of the lab. Ignoring Hermann’s suspicious glances and by some act of God managing to start the kettle _without_ magic, Newt brewed a cup of tea, pouring the potion in before delivering it to Hermann.

Hermann raised an eyebrow at the cup but accepted it with a nod of thanks. “So we’re bringing each other tea now? You must actually be feverish.” Hermann took a sip of the tea and choked, coughing and sputtering as he glared at the cup. Newt winced – apparently Pepperup Potion didn’t mix well with English breakfast.

“This is truly _awful_ ,” Hermann said, setting the cup down. “I’m not sure whether I want to know how you managed to mess up tea this badly.”

“It’s a special recipe, Hermann, some stuff that my dad always added to my tea to make me feel better,” Newt lied smoothly. “It tastes like shit, but it’s great for colds, trust me.” Newt grinned and patted Hermann on the shoulder, looking pointedly at the tea. Hermann glared at him, but pinched his nose and sipped the tea reluctantly, grimacing at the taste.

“Simply awful,” he said, but his gaze already seemed more focused than it had been. Hermann looked at the tea curiously. “Yet surprisingly effective and fast-acting. You should give me this…recipe, sometime.”

“Sure.” Yeah, try _never_. But Hermann smiled at him and Newt felt his face heat up again.

Hermann coughed, looking down at his shoes before nodding firmly. “Well, yes, um. Thank you, Newton,” he said awkwardly. He stood up and thrust the tea at Newt before turning back to his simulators. “You should take some as well,” Hermann said, “for your own fever.”

If only it were just a fever, Newt thought, sipping the tea anyway. He gagged. “I’m going to die,” he choked out before putting the tea back on Hermann’s desk. “It’s so bad.”

Hermann only laughed in response.

They didn’t speak much for the rest of the day, aside from occasional bickering that felt more like idle chit chat than actual arguing. It was strangely comfortable, and between Hermann's presence and Newt’s beautifully warm scarf, Newt found himself smiling in contentment the entire day. On his way out, Hermann pulled the hood of his parka back up and Newt couldn’t resist a parting quip of, “Again, because it just can’t be said enough: _great_ parka, dude. Seriously, that thing is _huge_.”

Hermann simply raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth turning up. “If we’re going to talk about ridiculous and oversized things, can we please bring that scarf back into the discussion?”

Newt could only gape at Hermann as the other man walked away, before grinning helplessly and applauding Hermann as he made his exit. Newt could feel Hermann’s eye roll even from where he was sitting. Shaking his head, Newt looked down at his scarf and smiled. Maybe he’d start wearing this thing more often.

 

Newt had gotten his first Kaiju tattoo not long after joining the PPDC. And contrary to popular belief, Newt wasn’t an idiot: he knew that drawing these monsters all over his body looked more like a declaration of love than one of passion, knew that was practically asking for a punch in the face each time he rolled up his sleeves. Newt could understand the reaction, sympathize even, but his tattoos were a concession he wasn’t willing to make to any Muggle or wizard. After leaving his dragons, his teaching position, and his owl, Newt felt that he deserved to keep these, the symbols of his ambition that he’d printed onto his skin. Newt had already had a dragon tattoo from his year at the sanctuary, but this was something else, a need that ran deeply and intensely through him. By the end of the war, his body was covered in Kaiju, the vivid and colorful patches of his skin almost outnumbering the plain ones.

Nobody really understood it, but Newt was a genius and the PPDC needed him, so his tattoos were reluctantly tolerated, if not accepted. Newt didn’t give a shit. It was worth the sneers to have watched these colors and patterns bloom across his skin with his very eyes, to watch the graceful slide of a needle as it changed him – now _that_ was magic, the kind of beautiful pseudo-magic that only Muggles could have perfected. Of course, Newt had added in some real magic in there as well, surreptitiously charming the ink that his artists used so that his tattoos could move on their own. It was worth it to give life to the beasts adorning his skin, even if it meant that he had to charm the tattoos every now and then to make sure that they wouldn’t move in front of Muggles. His tattoos tended to stay put anyhow, only bothering to move significantly when he was agitated or asleep. Muggles never noticed, though Hermann had once frowned at his sleeves when Newt had forgotten to make the ink migrate back to its usual place on his skin before coming into work. He hadn’t said anything though, and Newt had just let Hermann think that he’d imagined the slight difference in coloration on his arms.

Newt liked his tattoos, but could only fully appreciate them at night, when he could take his shirt off and lay alone in his bunk, keeping the lights on so he could observe the creatures that shifted across him. They moved freely and lazily over his skin, colors and shapes sliding together and pushing apart as the Kaiju swam over his body.

 

When the next cold season came around in Vladivostok, Newt cited illness to ditch work, spending the entire day coped up in his room and brewing more Pepperup Potion. His potions book on the floor and ingredients set out beside him, Newt tried to convince himself that he wasn’t just doing this because Hermann was getting sick again. It was only logical to have some Pepperup Potion on hand and besides, if Hermann was getting sick, it was only a matter of time before Newt followed suit. This was self-preservation, plain and simple.

He really would have preferred to be doing this in the lab rather than on the floor of his room though. Brewing potions on a dormitory floor was one thing when he was a student, but doing it as an adult felt a bit ridiculous, not to mention hard on his back. Having the cauldron in here meant that Newt had to keep charming it so that anyone else who came in would just see a hot plate, but it was a necessary evil. Even Newt knew that he couldn’t afford the luxury of openly brewing potions in his room, or even in the lab. Especially in the lab. Hermann thought Newt was weird enough as it was without him taking bats’ wings and eel’s eyes into their shared workspace.

It figured that his room, not exactly a social hub, would receive a visitor on the day that Newt was practicing magic inside it. Late afternoon there was a knock on the door and a loud “Newton!” that made Newt jump. 

_Shit_ , Hermann was probably here to get the revisions of his paper that Newt was supposed to give him today. “I’ll send it to you in, like, ten minutes, Hermann!” Newt called, not willing to take his eyes away from the potion while it was in its most delicate stages. His eyebrows came together as he tried to remember whether to stir clockwise or counterclockwise, his concentration thrown by Hermann’s arrival. He growled as Hermann knocked again, more insistently this time, and made the mistake of looking away from his cauldron to say, “Dude, chill, I’ll get it to you if you can wait just ten minu- fuck!”

Newt and Hermann had long ago given each other their spare keys in case of emergencies – the closest they’d ever come to acknowledging that they’d somehow become a constant to each other in their suddenly hectic lives – and Newt couldn’t really blame Hermann for using his now. A cauldron explosion couldn’t have sounded pretty even with a wall of metal between them, and oh shit, was that smoke leaking out from underneath his door? Well, Newt supposed that the smoke became a non-issue once Hermann opened the door and let it out, but there were so many other issues with what was happening right now that Newt didn't feel all that thankful about it. 

Newt could only look sheepish as Hermann gaped at him, likely trying and failing to come up with a plausible explanation for what he saw. Taking inventory, Newt found that he was covered in ash and sitting over a smoking cauldron, the situation _barely_ improved by the fact that Hermann only saw a smoking hot plate. He was surrounded by magical herbs that he could probably pass off as spices and by dragonflies’ thoraxes that he really didn’t have an explanation for. A horned slug crawled weakly towards the door in a desperate bid for escape. But hey, on the bright side, Newt’s eyebrows were only partially singed, so he was going to go ahead and call this one a win. Ish. But on the other hand, Hermann was still staring at him and Newt was still holding his wand in his hand, so maybe not.

“Uh,” Newt said. “I was. Uh. Cooking.”

“Cooking,” Hermann said slowly, his eyes darting around the room as if he wasn’t sure whether to stare at Newt, the wand, or the horned slug. In the end, he settled for Newt, eyebrows furrowed and mouth slightly agape.

Newt wanted nothing more than to disapparate, or maybe just tell the truth and pull Hermann in close to hug it out and maybe kiss a little bit. But Newt had a duty to the wizarding community and all that, plus, when he tried to open his mouth to explain, a strangled moan was all that came out. Hermann’s eyebrows shot towards the ceiling and, okay, change of plan, Newt had been trying to do something _nice_ for Hermann before the man in question messed it up by barging in, so he would not feel bad about what he did next. He would not feel bad. He pointed the wand at Hermann, ignoring Hermann’s look of puzzlement, and muttered, “Confundo.”

A shudder ran through Hermann’s body and the man blinked in confusion as he swayed where he stood, suddenly unsteady. He looked around him, his eyes not quite seeing the detritus of Newt’s failed potion brewing. His gaze stumbled upon Newt and he frowned. “Newton?”

Okay, so Newt already felt bad about it. He sighed, running his hands through his hair as Hermann looked at him curiously. “Newton, are you alright?” Hermann said, definitely a bit uncomfortable with the situation, though he seemed unsure as to why.

“Yeah,” Newt sighed. “Come on, Hermann, let’s get you back to your room.” Hermann complied as Newt herded him out of his room, unusually pliant as Newt steered him down the hall. Yeah, this definitely wasn’t one of Newt’s proudest moments. At least it was almost the evening and Newt didn’t have to sort through the ethical dilemma of Confunding one of the PPDC’s leading scientists out of a day of work. Not that that helped the guilt that twisted in his gut at Hermann’s dazed look, at the way he was leaning slightly against Newt as they walked.

Newt opened Hermann’s door with his spare key and sat him carefully on the bed. “You feeling okay, Hermann?”

Hermann frowned. “Of course I am. What are you doing in my room?”

Newt closed his eyes. He should not feel guilty for this. Plenty of wizards had done the exact same thing in similar situations without feeling this much guilt. “We just walked back from the lab together, remember?” Newt said. “I was just making sure you got back alright, since you seem a bit sick and all.”

“I hardly need the assistance, Newton. It’s only a cold.” Hermann paused and studied Newton for a moment, mouth pursed in concentration. “What happened to your eyebrows? You had eyebrows last I saw you.” He sounded uncertain about this last point.

“Accident in the lab, Hermann. You know how clumsy I am,” Newt said, forcing a grin.

Hermann nodded. “Quite right,” he scoffed. “You should really be more careful.”

Newt knew that the concern on Hermann’s face was just an aftereffect of the Confundus charm, just Hermann latching onto Newt because he felt he unsettled and confused. Still, he couldn’t help himself from pretending that it was something more, just for a moment, placing a hand on Hermann’s cheek in reassurance. Hermann’s eyes fluttered shut and he hummed in contentment. “You should really be more careful,” he murmured again.

“Yeah, I know,” Newt said, his voice tight. He stroked his thumb across Hermann’s cheek once before pulling his hand away. Hermann blinked at the loss of contact and frowned in puzzlement. _It doesn’t matter,_ Newt told himself. _It’s not like he’ll remember this in the morning._

“Anyway,” Newt said loudly, straightening up. “You’re dreaming right now, so I think I’m just going to go.”

"Oh. Okay." Hermann nodded and lay down on his bed, closing his eyes. “Goodnight, Newton,” he said sleepily.

Newt closed his eyes and breathed deeply for a moment before pulling out his wand and using a quickly muttered spell to replace Hermann’s clothes with pajamas. He resisted the urge to touch Hermann’s face -- relaxed and still in sleep – and left.

 

Hermann was his usual brilliant and prickly self the next day, for which Newt was relieved. Not that he’d been actually worried, because he _knew_ how to cast an appropriately powerful Confundus charm, thank you very much, but he still grinned upon seeing Hermann’s typical scowl.

“Hey, Herm! Ready to make some science today?”

Hermann glanced over at him before shaking his head and dabbing a tissue at his nose. “You’re certainly cheery today, Newton,” he sighed. “And I’m sure I’ve asked you countless times to _not_ call me Herm.”

“And I’ve told you countless times to call me Newt, so I’m pretty sure we’re even.” He studied Hermann, trying to gage if the mathematician remembered anything from last night. Hermann was acting just as he normally did though, and he certainly wasn't accusing Newt of being a wizard in front of the entire lab, so Newt was going to say no. The only thing at all different about Hermann was that he seemed a bit happier today, even with his cold. Newt chalked it up to Hermann getting a decent night’s sleep for once and sat down to start that day’s work.

 

They didn’t stay in Vladivostok long, moving to Sydney a year later as everything started to go to shit. The Kaiju were coming through the breach at an alarming rate as 2021 slipped away in a year of defeat and disappointment. Newt and Hermann witnessed Jaeger after Jaeger fall and Newt felt like crying at the sight. As selfish as it was, it wasn’t so much the destruction and death that reduced Newt to tears as much as it was seeing Hermann’s Mark 1’s, those holy, beautiful mecha that were a perfect combination of magic and science, crumble. Watching the massacre of the intricate machinery that Hermann’s coding had breathed _life_ into was like watching someone to take a flamethrower to the Lourve: it was art, destroyed. Even if Newt’s sorrow over the fall of the Jaegers wasn’t exactly the same as Hermann’s, which was tinged with self-blame and bitter disappointment, it still ran just as deeply through him.

So yeah, he got a bit mad when people called him a Kaiju groupie, because sure, Newt admired their biology and felt a frenzied need to _understand_ them that was easy to mistake for love, but Newt’s relationship with the Kaiju was more complicated than that. They destroyed Hermann’s art, Hermann’s magic, which made Newt want to scream at them just as much as he wanted to study them. Newt had never been living as fully as he was when he was trying to uncover the mysteries of the Kaiju, but every time a Jaeger fell, Newt couldn’t help but miss the dragons. He missed being able to simply adore and appreciate the creatures he studied without having to worry about their relentless desire to destroy him, about the literal ticking clock that hung in ever Shatterdome. It had certainly been easier than studying the Kaiju, than positively _burning_ with the convoluted passion he felt towards them. On the days when Newt's doodles of dragons seemed more taunting than reassuring, he would excuse himself and retreat to his room, pulling out his wand and staring at it. He would hold it against his chest, pretending he could sense the dragon heartstring that hid in its core, trying to let the dragons ground him before he went back into the lab to renew his all-consuming quest to figure out the Kaiju, and maybe avenge Hermann’s fallen art while he was at it.

 

Spinejackel attacked Australia in 2022, while Newt was essentially stabbing and hexing Kaiju specimens in turns in an attempt to glean _something_ new, and Hermann was stuck giving a presentation in Melbourne to basically beg for more funding. Newt had given up on his experiment and was just walking to the mess hall to grab dinner when the alarms sounded. His heartbeat raced as he thought ahead to the new specimens that this meant, the new data.

“What is it, where’d it land?” Newt demanded from a passing J-Tech worker who already looked harassed enough without Newt bothering her with his inappropriate enthusiasm.

“Category three hit Melbourne. Codename: Spinejackal,” she shot back at him.

Newt froze in the hallway, any excitement he’d had vanishing as the Shatterdome scrambled into action around him. “Hermann,” he whispered. “Oh shit, Hermann. Shit shit shit.” He took out his phone, ignoring the chaos around him as he called Hermann with shaking fingers. Each ring of the phone sent a new spike of anxiety through his mind, dread sinking through his stomach like a stone lodged inside of him. Of _course_ out of any time that Spinejackal could have attacked, it had to be when Newt wasn’t there to protect his stupid Muggle lab partner.

_You’ve reached Dr. Hermann Gottlieb, K-Science Officer of the-_

“I don’t care about your dumb, nerdy voicemail, you jackass, I need to know where you are!” Newt screamed into the phone, earning him more than a few odd glances, but Newt couldn’t bring himself to care. They didn’t matter, the only thing that mattered was finding out if Hermann wasn’t answering his phone because it was turned off or because of something much worse.

“Tracking spell,” Newt whispered, sprinting to the nearest supply closet. Inside, he pulled out his wand, quickly muttering the incantation before pulling up Hermann in his mind’s eye. He pictured him, all frowny and sharp edges, smelling like tea and chalk, his hair a rumpled mess after clenching at it in frustration during their arguments. Newt was so sure that if he ever got to touch that hair that it would feel soft and wonderful against his fingers. Newt felt a mental tug against his consciousness and let it take him. It was as if his mind were being pulled along by a thread until he could finally see a deserted street corner, the crumbling remains of a coffee shop, the very ground shaking from the sound of Spinejackal’s roars.

“I’m coming, Hermann,” Newt said, disapparating. Unprepared for the transition between the humming quiet of the closet and the cacophony of screaming and screeching metal that filled the air in Melbourne, Newt stumbled, putting his hands over his ears and wincing. He took a deep breath, trying not to be sick as he slowly lifted his hands away, listening for Spinejackal’s snarls. They seemed far enough away to conclude that the Kaiju had moved on to a different part of the city. The disappointment of being unable to see the Kaiju up close was fleeting and intrusive in Newt’s mind before it was wiped away by his concern for Hermann.

“Hermann!” he screeched, looking desperately around, trying to get his bearings. “Hermann! Hermann, where are  you?” He coughed, trying to clear his throat past the dust shaken loose from the debris with each shuddering step of the Kaiju. The dust clouded his glasses and Newt angrily cleaned them with a jab of his wand, trying to search through the debris for his stupid, _stupid_ Muggle. “Lumos!” he said, sighing in relief as the light cut through the dust and the shadows, revealing Hermann several meters away. The motionless mathematician was hidden beneath a layer of dust, his lower body and left arm buried in debris, his eyes closed. All the dread that had been occupying Newt’s stomach emptied out until there was nothing left but sharp, pure fear. “Hermann!” he cried before running over and dropping to his knees, holding Hermann’s face in his hands.

“Hermann, can you hear me?” Hermann groaned and Newt almost gave in to the urge to bury himself in Hermann’s chest and cry. “Come on, buddy,” Newt said, slapping Hermann’s face a few times, “wake up, we need to get you out of here.”

“Newton?” Hermann said, cracking his eyes open to find himself face to face with Newton’s wand, which was still emitting a pale light. He squinted into it. “What on Earth...?”

 “I’ll explain later,” Newt said, unable to give two shits about whether or not Hermann could see his wand. “Right now let’s focus on getting you out of here, okay?” Hermann only nodded, not questioning or berating him, which worried Newt more than anything. Hermann’s eyes were barely focused and he seemed to be having trouble following what Newt was saying.

“Just a concussion,” Newt told himself before standing up. “Okay, now let’s get this crap off you, yeah, Hermann?” Newt tried to tell himself that this was just like Charms class, just another set of pillows that he had to levitate – except that this time the pillows were pieces of a _building_ and that it wasn’t Newt’s grade at risk if he messed up, but his friend’s life. “Not helping,” Newt groaned, deciding to just stop thinking altogether. This was an easy spell, it was the first spell he’d ever learned. _You can do this_ , Newt thought, trying to tune out the sounds of Vulcan Specter and Spinejackal going at it on the other side of the city.

Taking a deep breath, Newt shouted, “Wingardium leviosa!” He carefully lifted the pieces of building from Hermann’s legs, wincing as the other man cried out in pain. Hermann’s eyes met his as Newt threw the pieces of rubble away from them, already focusing on levitating the next piece. “Newton?” Hermann said weakly. “What are you doing?”

“For the love of God, Hermann, shut up and be quiet while I save your life,” Newt said, tossing away the stone he’s just lifted off of Hermann’s knee. Hermann’s face seemed to be getting paler by the minute and Newt wondered whether the other man was going into shock. Hermann seemed to be having trouble deciding whether to gape at Newt in astonishment or cry out in pain. Lifting the last piece of debris off of Hermann, Newt returned to his side and looked at Hermann’s wounds, wincing when he saw the numerous cuts and gashes lining his body, the awkward angle of his shoulder, the twisted shape of his leg.

“What are…you…” Hermann gasped out when Newt placed his wand on top of Hermann's chest. Hermann’s breath was coming out in weak bursts and his eyes fluttered shut, his face contorted in agony.

“I told you, Herm, I’m saving your life. Just sit tight, we’ll have you fixed up in no time.” Newt really hoped that he could deliver on that promise. Though Newt was pretty fair at healing, he could already tell that Hermann’s leg was way beyond his skill level. “Doesn’t matter, I can still stop the bleeding,” Newt muttered. “Episkey.”

Newt was grateful that Hermann’s eyes were closed for this, for the sight of Hermann’s sealing skin wasn’t a pretty one, the lacerations stitching themselves together at a speed that must have been miserable for Hermann. Hermann’s arm wrenched itself from a less awkward position with a loud popping sound, and the mathematician positively howled in pain. Hermann’s eyes opened just enough to glare at Newt with rage and astonishment. “Whatever it is you are doing to me with that _thing_ ,” Hermann slurred at Newt’s wand, “rest assured that I will murder you one day for it, if Spinejackal does not kill us both first.” The sharp pain had brought Hermann a momentary lucidity, but his eyes quickly glazed over as he retreated back into his exhaustion, looking at Newt without seeing him.

“What I’m doing with this _thing_ is saving your life," Newt said. "Not that you're lucid enough to realize it."

Hermann didn't seem to hear him and within a moment, his eyes slipped shut, his breathing heavy. Newt shook his head. “Oh no you don’t. Hermann, Hermann, come on, man,” he said, slapping the sides of Hermann’s face again to no response. Newt could still hear Spinejackal’s roars in the background, closer than ever, and he paled. “Hermann, I don’t know where the nearest Kaiju shelter is and we can’t stay here,” he said, talking a mile a minute. “They showed you where it was though, right? They must have shown you before you got settled here. You _knew_ a Kaiju attack would be coming this month, you must have looked up what the Melbourne protocol is for post-attack emergency care. Hell, you’re the most anal person I know, you’ve probably memorized the procedure for every city. I know you know it, but I need you to _tell_ me, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Hermann only replied with a slurred mumble and Newt snarled in frustration. “I can’t take you back to the Sydney Shatterdome without exposing myself, Hermann! I won’t have an explanation for how that happened, so I need you to picture the shelter in your mind, okay? Hold onto me and picture it as clearly as you can!” Spinejackal’s cries were only growing louder and whether Hermann had heard Newt or not, Newt was getting him out of here, even if it meant ending up at the Sydney Shatterdome. Newt pressed his forehead tightly against Hermann’s, feeling Hermann's forehead scrunch up beneath his before he disapparated.

It was a messy apparation, Newt’s gut feeling as if it were being wretched sideways, his ears popping as they adjusted once more to different sound levels. Newt gasped for breath, unsure of where they'd ended up, and cried, “We need a doctor!”

He looked up in time to see Hermann retch onto the ground beside them. The other man was in pain, but not splinched, so Newt took it as a victory. Even better, they appeared to be in a shelter. Newt sighed in relief. Someday he would have to congratulate Hermann on picturing a location so clearly while barely conscious, if circumstance ever allowed it. “Hermann. It’s okay now, Hermann,” Newt murmured as a crowd gathered around them. A few who’d probably seen them apparate looked at them with wide eyes – Newt wasn’t worried about them, they’d talk themselves out of what they’d just seen within the hour – while others helped Newt carry Hermann into a makeshift trauma ward.

Newt found himself uncharacteristically pliant as a nurse pushed him gently out of the ward, his protests token at best. He knew that he couldn’t actually stay here, as much as he wanted to be with Hermann. Just like Newt wouldn’t have been able to explain Hermann’s sudden presence in Sydney, Newt couldn’t explain his own in Melbourne.

Catching the sleeve of the nurse who’d escorted him out of the room, he said, “I need a pen.” Newt fought the urge to scream into his hands at the look of incredulity she shot him. “It’ll take two seconds,” he insisted. “We’re both PPDC, it’s alright. I just need to give you a number to call to let me know when he wakes up.”

“If he’s PPDC, all of his emergency contact information is already in his file,” the nurse said, looking harried as she grabbed a pen out of her pocket anyway.

“This one isn’t,” Newt said, quickly writing his number on her hand and ignoring her protests. “Please,” Newt said, “just please call that number when he’s okay.” Newt wiped his hand across his eyes before walking away from the nurse, retreating to a secluded closet in the shelter to disapparate.

 

Newt managed to weasel himself into a transport to Melboune a couple days later under the pretense of making sure that Spinejackal’s collected organs were ready to be shipped to Sydney. It actually was something he needed to take care of, but Newt couldn't muster up his usual enthusiasm for the parts when he knew that Hermann was lying in a hospital bed less than a mile away.

When he finally got a chance to slip into Hermann’s hospital room – or hospital corner, really, as the entire place was filled to the brim – Hermann was awake, but only just, managing a vague and sleepy smile at Newt. Newt strongly suspected that the man was out of his mind on painkillers right now.

“Hey, man,” Newt sat, sitting next to the bed. “You doing okay?”

“Hardly,” Hermann said, the smile falling slowly from his face. “Of course, it doesn’t hurt right now, but my leg…” He waved his hand in a weak gesture before letting it drop to his side. “Permanent nerve damage,” he said finally, looking down at his the leg in question.

Newt felt as though he’d been punched in the stomach. “Oh Jesus, Hermann…shit, I’m sorry, dude. I wish I could’ve been there. I should’ve been there.” Or more accurately, he should’ve been able to heal Hermann’s leg, should have been able to do _more_.

“Spare me your theatrics, Dr. Geiszler,” Hermann sighed, “and forgive me if I’m not in the mood to comfort you. A man as smart as yourself has doubtless realized that you couldn’t have done anything all the way from Sydney. Unless you happened to have a spare Jaeger that you never told me about.”

Nope, just magical powers and a couple bottles of healing potions. “Yeah, I guess,” Newt said instead, laughing weakly. “Man, even on painkillers you’re the most articulate asshole I know.

“And you, Newton, are simply a loud asshole,” Hermann said, his eyes managing to focus slightly on Newt. He seemed hesitant and small, so unlike how he usually was. Newt had never seen him so exhausted. Hermann gripped his sheets in frustration, managing an inarticulate snarl. “But you _were_ there,” he said. “During the attack. You had a glowing stick and I…weren’t you there?” Hermann’s voice had grown quiet, fatigued, his eyes were filled with confusion. “They told me you weren’t, but I could’ve sworn…”

Newt hesitated, unsure of what to say in the face of such a vulnerable version of Hermann. He deliberated just coming out and telling Hermann the truth, but before he could make up his mind, Hermann yawned and shook his head. “Though the doctors are right of course, you couldn’t have been there. You were all the way in Sydney,” he sighed, his eyes slipping shut and words losing volume as he spoke. “It was just the concussion. A dream.”

“Yeah, just a dream, Hermann,” Newt said quietly. He took Hermann’s hand and squeezed it, Hermann’s hand only twitching weakly in response as he succumbed to sleep.

 

As soon as it was possible for him to be moved, Hermann insisted on coming back to the Sydney Shatterdome.

“I need to _work_ , Newton,” Hermann said when Newt tried to force him to stay in his damn hospital bed for one freaking second. “I’m afraid the Kaiju aren’t going to stop coming just because my leg hurts a little.” _Little_ , Newt scoffed. _You liar, you’re in agony_. But if the Kaiju were a force of nature, then Newt thought that Hermann must be too, if only because his stubbornness alone seemed a strong enough weapon to overpower anything that stood in his way, physical therapy included. Hermann took on the exercises and his work, determined to be productive even when it was only from a bed or a wheelchair. Newt knew there was nothing he could do to convince Hermann to slow down so he decided to focus his energy instead on brewing Hermann a multitude of potions for the pain, slipping them into his tea whenever Hermann’s leg threatened to overwhelm his stubborn nature.

Physio was a real bitch for Hermann, not that he ever let on about it. Newt could only infer the existence of the pain from the effects that it had on Hermann: the added frown lines and the minutes that Hermann spent staring into space, his eyes slipping shut in exhaustion before snapping open once more. Hermann’s new cane was frequently abused, as Hermann became fond of slapping it against his desk in frustration and trying to hit Newt with it during particularly snippy arguments. Still, never let it be said that Hermann wasn’t adaptable, as it wasn’t long before Hermann used his cane to rap on Newt’s desk to get his attention, happily unsettling Newt’s specimens. Newt was pretty sure that Hermann enjoyed having the cane as an extra limb with which to emphasize his thoughts, if not the pain that necessitated it.

Still, as adaptable as Hermann was, his recovery probably would have taken a lot longer without Newt there to intervene, spiking his tea with healing potions and muttering Cheering Charms on Hermann’s bad days. Though Hermann was ignorant of these things, he claimed that Newt still lent a small contribution to his physical therapy by motivating Hermann to work harder just so that he could walk _away_ from Newt and his inane chatter.

Surprisingly enough, little changed between then in the aftermath of Newt’s magical intervention and Hermann’s recovery. Newt supposed that it made sense, as sneaking a peek at Hermann’s medical file revealed that, upon regaining full lucidity, Hermann had claimed to remember nothing of what happened when Spinejackal attacked. In Hermann’s eyes, Melbourne simply had nothing to do with Newt.

The one time they even came close to discussing it was during Newt’s last hospital visit before Hermann discharged himself. Newt’s feet were propped up on the edge of Hermann’s bed and he was threatening to bring Hermann Jr. to visit if Hermann tried to leave the hospital.

“I’m serious,” he said, “you will be walking out of this hospital and bam, Hermann Jr. will be there to give you his soulful, puppy dog stare, and that stare will make you regret ever having decided to ignore me and you will feel so bad, and Hermann Jr. will not comfort you. Just _stay put_ , Jesus.”

Hermann groaned. “I’m sure I can manage your goldfish staring at me if I can just do some _work._ And stop calling it that! I’d rather my legacy not include having a _goldfish_ named after me.”

“But it’s too late, Hermann Jr. already responds to it. Can’t just change his name now, he’d get confused,” Newt said, helping himself to some of Hermann’s lunch.

“Oh, just take it,” Hermann sighed, not bothering to protest. “It’s hardly edible anyway.”

“Yeah, whatever, Herm,” Newt said. He grinned at Hermann through a mouth full of Jell-O.

Hermann recoiled. “You are _disgusting_ , Newton. How you’ve managed to convince the world that you are a functioning adult, much less a _doctor_ , is beyond my understanding.”

“Charm and good looks mainly,” Newt mused. He took another bite of his pilfered dessert, frowning when he caught Hermann staring at him. “Do I have something on my face, man? Or are my charms and good looks finally getting to you?” he said with a wink, smiling when Hermann scowled at him. Newt was working to get a rise out of Hermann even more often than usual in an effort to distract Hermann from his pain. He wasn't sure how well it worked, but considering that Hermann essentially lived off of nothing but stubbornness and anger anyway, Newt was pretty sure he was doing the other man a service by riling him up. He was, like, basically feeding Hermann's soul by annoying him. 

Hermann huffed and looked away. “Hardly. I’m simply embarrassed for you and your lack of ability when it comes to eating like a grown man.”

Newt rolled his eyes and hummed to himself. “Yeah, well, you’ve been letting me visit you and steal your food since the day you got locked up in this joint, so I’m pretty sure you don’t care that much about how I eat, Hermann. Even if you are a total priss about that kind of stuff.”

“‘Letting you’ is a loose term, as I’ve hardly been able to get up and _avoid_ you as I so desperately wish to.” His words held no bite though, and when Newt looked over he could see that Hermann’s eyes were shut. When Newt had first visited the hospital, Hermann had only been able to stay awake a few minutes, and though Hermann was now consistently awake and coherent, he still got tired fairly easily.

“You visited me when I first got injured?” Hermann asked.

“Huh?” Newt looked over and Hermann’s eyes were open again, looking at him curiously.

“You said that you’ve been stealing my food ‘since the day I locked up in this joint.’ I don’t remember much from that day,” Hermann admitted.

“Oh,” Newt said, setting the Jell-O down. “It was a few days after you got injured actually, I convinced the Marshall to let me come down.”

Hermann frowned. “I don’t remember you visiting that week.”

“Well you were pretty out of it, like crazy high. They gave you the good stuff, dude, it was quite the show. Nah, actually, it wasn’t that exciting, you basically said, like, six words to me and then passed out.”

“Ah. I don’t suppose I said anything of note?”

Newt looked over to see Hermann frowning in concentration as if trying to remember for himself what he said. Newt wondered if Hermann would ever remember that conversation, and with that memory regain the certainty that he’d had that Newt had been with him in Melbourne. Newt resolved to come clean to Hermann if that ever happened. He was tired of deceiving Hermann about such a large part of his life, especially after more than four years of arguing and collaborating with him, of loving him. But for now, with Hermann so tired and the apocalypse dragging on, Newt only shrugged. “Nah, you just talked about a dream you had. Nothing much.”

 

Hermann and Newt moved to Hong Kong nearly two years after Spinejackal hit Melbourne, the time in between mostly filled with Hermann’s recovery, Newt’s subtle and magical assistance with said recovery, and the slowly growing realization that neither of them had enough data or ideas to save the Jaeger program. It was a realization that'd been building for awhile, only confirmed by the information that accompanied the news of their relocation: they were the only two people of the Sydney K-Science department to be heading out to the new lab. Some were staying in Sydney, others were leaving the PPDC altogether, but Newt knew what it all meant: the PPDC were faltering, leaving Newt and Hermann as the last line of defense that the world had to figure out a plan to destroy the breach. Newt’s hands shook when he first read the email informing them of the news. He’d paced a few laps around the empty lab before giving into the urge to hex his desk into oblivion, repairing it with a sigh a minute later. Hermann had obviously read the email before coming to work, as his face was set in grim determination as he walked into the lab.

The two worked in atypical silence throughout the morning, Newt only lasting a few hours before he let his head drop into his hands. He tried not to scream, but he couldn't stop himself from trembling where he sat. He was a _wizard_ , for God’s sake, he was Dr. Newton Geiszler, genius rockstar. He was a Magizoologist _and_ a biologist, and even though all of those things supposedly made him the most qualified person in the world to help stop the Kaiju, he knew that it just wasn’t enough _. He_ wasn't enough, because for all Newt had uncovered about the creatures, the Kaiju were still a mystery to him. He felt a hand settle on his shoulder and looked up to see Hermann standing over him. Hermann looked just as lost as Newt did, but nodded at him in reassurance and patted him on the back before retreating to the other side of their lab. Newt sighed and nodded to himself. He started to gather up his things in preparation for the move, all the while wishing he could just flick his wand and let the boxes pack themselves.

 

“It could never work!”

Newt gritted his teeth. He and Hermann had been circling the same arguments over and over again ever since they’d arrived in Hong Kong, their insults morphing into something far more vicious and cruel than they had been in Sydney. They bickered themselves into the same old corner every day, their conversations becoming useless and redundant as the pressure of their jobs increased exponentially with each fallen Jaeger. It made Newt want to scream and hex Hermann’s notes to shreds. “You really think your breach plan is any better? It _will_ work, Hermann, it’s the only way to figure out how to stop the Kaiju! All I need is a brain, and it’s only a matter of time before I get one.”

“There are some _humans_ who are unable to drift together. How do you think trying it with not only a different species, but a species from a separate _dimension_ will pan out for you? You wouldn’t even survive the neural handshake.”

“Uh, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, since you’re always so busy burying your head in your stupid equations, but I happen to be the foremost expert on the Kaiju. If anyone can drift with them, it’s me! I can handle it, I just need to get Pentacost to give me the go ahead.”

Hermann breathed deeply through his nose. “Newton,” he said slowly. “I know it is impossible for you to escape the depths of your fanboyish love for the Kaiju, but consider for just one moment the very real consequences of mixing your brain together with a calculated and reprehensible _monster_.”

Hermann expressing a sincere concern for Newt’s well being was startling enough to give Newt pause. But the Slytherin in him won out in the end as he prickled against Hermann’s control, at Hermann dismissing the plan that Newt _knew_ would work if Hermann could just get over his stupid breach bombing strategy and give Newt a chance. “Oh my God, I told you I can handle it, Hermann! I’m going to drift with the Kaiju and become a rockstar while you sit in your little corner and hang out with your blackboards, because I take actual _risks_ , man. Except it’s barely a risk because, as sweet as your concern is, I’m not going to let the Kaiju do any damage to me.”

“How good for you, that the Kaiju won’t any damage to you simply because you won’t _let_ them. If only everyone else could be so fortunate.” Hermann's hand was gripping his cane so hard that the knuckles turned white. He was positively _seething_ and Newt winced as he belatedly realized his own unfortunate phrasing. But Hermann was on a roll now and continued, “You are an idiot, Newton Geiszler, and your mindless ambition will kill you in the end. You will never be a rockstar, _groupie,_ because you are so blinded by your love for these creatures that you have not yet realized that the Kaiju are a menace, not a primary school science experiment to be toyed with. This is a foolhardy plan and I will not allow you to bring it up to the Marshall.” Hermann was sneering by the end of his speech and Newt was just…he was just done. Newt’s mind buzzed with rage and hurt that reduced his racing thoughts to white noise, and he could only manage a garbled screech at Hermann before he turned his back on him. He practically sprinted out of the room, unable to breathe, sure that he would accidently start the lab on fire if he stayed in there another moment. He could hear Hermann trying to catch up to him, but Newt was sure that he’d break down if he had to face Hermann right now, and disapparated the moment the lab doors closed behind him.

Newt sighed in relief as the concrete beneath his feet was replaced by grass, the stuffy heat of the packed Shatterdome replaced by a light breeze that played at his hair. Newt had been too busy fuming to think of any particular decision except _away_ , and he looked around to try to get his bearings. He was in the Chinese dragon sanctuary, he realized, the one he’d visited several times with his German colleagues to swap eggs. Newt closed his eyes and sat down on the wonderfully soft ground. He ran his palms along the grass and marveled at its silken texture. He fought back tears at the sight of the open fields before him. God, had he missed this.

“Who’s sitting there? This is a dragon sanctuary, not a park! You must be escorted if you wish to wander these premises.”

Newt hurriedly wiped his eyes and turned towards the voice, blinking in surprise when he saw a familiar face. “Zhang?”

Zhang squinted at him as he approached, walking towards him from one of the birthing shacks. “Newt? Newton Geiszler, is that really you?”

A smile spread across Newt’s face, relieving an ache inside him he hadn’t even been aware of harboring. “I didn’t know you were still here!” he said as Zhang drew him into a hug. “It’s been, what, sixteen, seventeen years?”

Zhang made a face, running a hand self-consciously over his thinning hair. “Don't remind me.”

Newt laughed. “Man, I haven’t seen you since we delivered those Norwegian Ridgeback eggs together!”

“We agreed not to mention that, Newt,” Zhang said sternly, though his eyes twinkled with amusement. “My eyebrow hair has still not completely grown back.”

“Aw, but those babies were _so_ cute. You can’t tell me it wasn’t worth a couple of patchy eyebrows. How are those little guys? Wow, they must be nearly full grown by now.”

The smile fell frown Zhang's face. “Ah, they are…gone, I'm afraid. They died soon after K-Day. I don’t need to tell you how poorly this war has treated the dragons.” Zhang shook his head. “It has been a difficult twelve years.”

 Newt had to look at the ground a moment before nodding, breathing deeply. “I know how you feel,” he said.

Zhang looked a Newt for a moment, eyeing him carefully. “You’ve been working with the PPDC as of late, yes?”

Newt searched for disapproval in Zhang’s tone, but Zhang’s words did not hold the judgment that other Magizoologists’ had carried upon hearing of Newt’s career change. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m still working for them. I just came out here because I, uh, needed a break.”

“End of the world, who doesn’t need a break,” Zhang sighed. He nodded in understanding before leading Newt to the metal pen that sat adjacent to the birthing shack. “Most of the flock is out flying right now, but there is a young one still here.” As they approached the pen, Newt could see that the young dragon in question was already exploring the range of its corral and gnawing at the metal, huffing smoke when its teeth couldn’t make more than a few dents in the fence. “She’s only a few days old,” Zhang explained. “She’s not quite yet ready to move to the grasslands.”

“She’s almost there though,” Newt remarked, eyeing the small Chinese Fireball as he slipped on a pair of thick gloves that Zhang tossed him. The Fireball was the size of a large dog, her red scales shining a dull red that reminded Newt of Crimson Typhoon’s shining metal. Newt trailed into the pen after Zhang, the two of them sitting on their haunches as the dragon circled them suspiciously.

“Her name is Mei,” Zhang said, pulling a scrap of meat out of his robes and tossing it to Mei, who sniffed it several times before swallowing it whole. Zhang pulled out a second piece of meat from what must have been magically enlarged robe pockets. Newt suddenly missed his own scorched, messy robes that were sitting at the bottom of a trunk in his room.

“How goes the fight?” Zhang said, handing the bit of meat to Newt. Newt let it sit in his hands and he tried to look unthreatening – which really wasn’t a challenge, given his physicality – as Mei approached him slowly.

“The truth or the PPDC bullshit propaganda?” Newt grinned. “Nah, it’s…not looking great over there. I mean, it’s better than a wall, but still not great. I’m running out of options here, Zhang, the Kaiju aren’t _giving_ me any more options. They’re not dragons, you know?” Mei swiped the meat from his hands, gnawing at it as she settled in beside Newt. Newt brushed his hand slowly down the dragon’s spine, knowing that she’d allow it for now. “Dragons make sense. I mean, yeah, they’re dangerous, but not if you actually _try_ to understand them. And the dragons let us understand, they don’t actively hunt us down while we’re trying to study them! With the Kaiju it’s like they don’t _want_ me to figure them out.”

Zhang gave a small smile, observing Newt as he pet Mei. “There are few who understand the dragons like you do, Newt. I know you are already more than aware of this, but you are unique. I’m sure you will solve the mysteries of the Kaiju just as you’ve already solved several of the dragons’.”

Newt tried to look as determined and fierce as Mei already did, but he knew that he couldn’t quite measure up. Turning to Zhang, he said, “I’m thinking about drifting with one. A Kaiju, that is. Not even a Kaiju, really, just a piece of its brain.”

Newt knew that Zhang’s reaction would mirror Hermann’s, if not display its same ferocity. Zhang was too easy going for that, but he still seemed to feel responsible whenever Newt tried to use reckless research methods, probably because Newt had invented so many of them while on this very sanctuary. Zhang’s posture was stiff and he took a moment to compose himself before he spoke. “I know you don’t want to hear this, Newt, and I know that you came here to get away from that world, but I do not think what you’re planning is wise.” Newt opened his mouth to protest and Zhang shot him a withering look. “I’m not going to reprimand you,” he continued. “I know that no one can stop you if you have your mind set on this, least of all I. But please do me a favor and don’t go through with this without thinking about it first. _Really_ thinking about it, which I can tell you’ve not yet done. You know what happens to young witches and wizards who throw themselves headfirst into situations with dangerous creatures."

“We either die or we become Magizoologists,” Newt quipped, and Zhang smiled at the old saying that was so often thrown around in their field of study. Newt sighed. “I should probably go soon, my lab partner might be getting worried.”

Zhang nodded. “I understand. And I hope that you consider my words.”

“I will. But I’m probably still going to do it,” Newt admitted.

“I know,” Zhang said, smiling. “You would not be Newton Geiszler otherwise. Drifting with a Kaiju.” He shook his head. “Just tell me, before you go: is this really what you need to do?”

Newt closed his eyes and ran his hands down Mei’s belly, feeling an echo of its warmth even through the protection of his gloves. He was glad that he had come here. Newt’s mind had been significantly addled by the stress of moving from Shatterdome to Shatterdome over the years, the pressure of what he needed to accomplish so overwhelming that it was sometimes hard to just get out of bed. Here in the dragon sanctuary, Newt could finally feel his thoughts clearing. He looked up at the soft clouds above him, watching them slowly move in the breeze. Newt knew that in just a few hours, stars would rush to fill that sky, unhindered by light pollution. _Hermann_ _would like that,_ he thought. _Maybe I’ll take him here someday, if I ever tell him the truth._

Newt so wanted to tell him the truth one day. He wanted to show Hermann these fields and say _this is my real element, Herm, not with water and Kaiju but with fire and dragons, this is where I really thrive, where I actually know what I’m doing because I have to be honest, I have no idea what else to do about the Kaiju, I’m clueless and lost and the only way I can fix that is by drifting._

He had to drift because the last useful thing Newt had been able to do was save Hermann, which was a victory that rang hollow because he hadn’t been able to save all of him. Newt closed his eyes tighter and pressed his face against Mei’s scales, ignoring Zhang’s protests. Mei bit his gloved hands but did nothing more, turning back to her meat after Newt refused to move. Newt needed to be able to do something, _anything_ , and at this point his only available option was the drift. Even if it did kill him. Besides, Newt was a Magizoologist: it was his job to jump into the dragon pits, swamps, and forests where no one else dared to go. What more was a Kaiju brain?

“Yes,” Newt said finally, relief flowing through him so strongly as he answred that he almost fell over. He lifted his head and Mei flew away, only managing a few hundred feet before gliding slowly down to the ground. “I need to do this.”

Zhang nodded. “Then drift.”

 

The next time Newt saw Hermann, he spoke before Hermann could even open his mouth. “Just shut up, okay? Just, before you say anything, please shut up. It was a bad day for both of us and we’re both sorry, can we just leave it at that?”

Hermann eyed him carefully before nodding. “I know you haven’t given up on the idea, Newton.”

Newt gave him a wry grin before slapping him on the shoulder. He was unable to keep himself lingering for just a moment too long, savoring the brush of his hand over Hermann’s soft jacket. “You wouldn’t be my friend if you didn’t already know that, Herm," he said, walking away and basking in the glory of Hermann’s scowl as it followed him into the lab.

 

Preparations for a Kaiju-human drift machine, especially one partially powered by magic, took longer than Newt thought, so though he and Hermann still had many a shouting match over it the drift remained only theoretical for now. With their Kaiju-drifting arguments joining their usual ones and the Jaeger program taking hit after hit, the atmosphere in the lab was tenser than ever, both of them frantically working on their own projects in an attempt to find something useful to give the Marshall. Newt didn't sleep much most nights and he suspected that Hermann didn't either. One night, after two Jaegers had fallen in one Kaiju attack and after their funding had whittled down to almost nothing, Newt felt too wired to either work or sleep. Instead, he chose to show up at Hermann’s door with a bottle of vodka. Hermann had sighed but allowed Newt in, and soon they were both sitting on Hermann’s bed and drinking together as if it were something they did all the time.

Newt had seen Hermann drunk, of course, at the occasional K-Science bar outing in their early PPDC days, but Hermann didn’t tend to imbibe, especially as the years got on and neither him nor Newt had the time to drink, much less get drunk together. But hey, with the end of the world, there was a first time for everything, including getting smashed with your lab partner.

“Happy New Year, Hermann,” Newt said, taking another deep swig from his glass, wincing and coughing afterwards.

“It’s October,” Hermann said, but mirrored Newt’s celebratory drinking anyway. He took his drink far better than Newt did, which Newt blamed solely on the fact that Hermann had spent his university years in Germany.

“Have to live every day like it’s the New Year, Herm, even when it's not, you know, actually the New Year,” Newt said. “'Cause, you know, we might not get a New Year the way this year has been going. That's kind of sad." Newt looked forlonly at his drink. "I like New Year's, Hermann. There's always a party and booze and streamers. I hope we still get one."

“We will get one this year, if not the year after,” Hermann said, just drunk enough to humor Newt, even if he shot him a raised eyebrow while doing so. “Or so my calculations say. That is, of course, the worst case scenario that supposes we don't close the breach first."

“You think we will?” Newt said. "Close the breach in time, that is?"

“I do. I believe it just as much as you do, Newton. Though I’m sure that at least half of _your_ belief is just due to pure hubris. Rrrrockstar,” he said with a roll of his r’s. Even though there had been an undercurrent of teasing to his tone, Hermann still seemed puzzled when Newt wheezed with laughter beside him.

“Oh man, I don’t know how you work that many r’s into a syllable. Thanks for that, man, that made my day.”

“You’re drunk,” Hermann said.

“Well you’re dumb,” Newt said, unable to come up with a better comeback. Maybe he was a bit drunker than he’d thought. Hermann surprised him by laughing and Newt was endlessly pleased by the noise, grinning ear to ear. “You’re drunk too,” he accused.

“Yes,” Hermann said simply, taking another sip of his drink.

“I’m sitting next to Hermann Gottlieb, coder of the Mark 1’s and creator of the Kaiju predictive model, and he’s totally getting wasted. I need to get to LOCCENT and announce this to everyone.”

Hermann rolled his eyes but didn’t rise to the empty threat. “Your math is like magic,” Newt said, flooded with a sudden need to fill the silence. “I mean, it’s not, but it also is somehow? I don’t really know how it works,” Newt admitted, “or if it’s just me. But you write magic numbers.”

Hermann examined Newt carefully, his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to make out what Newt was trying to say. “It may be time for you to go to bed,” he said.

“Yeah, probably,” Newt sighed, and let Hermann escort him back to his room before crawling into bed, his tattoos moving lazily across his body as he slept without dreams.

 

After months of at last looking in the right place, Newt _finally_ made the breakthrough he’d been looking for since Sydney: all Kaiju DNA was identical. Though Hermann scoffed at the idea, Newt was convinced that they were clones. Newt just _knew_ that he'd discovered the key to figuring out why the Kaiju were attacking in the first place. Newt was gleeful for months after this discovery, working doubly hard on his drift machine in response to the new data.

Hermann’s breakthroughs were of a gloomier kind, his double-event theory devastating the mood of the lab when he’d first uncovered it. Hermann renewed his calculations with a fervor, sleeping and eating even less than Newt did in a desperate bid to come up with a new plan to destroy the breach.

Newt brought Hermann tea more often than ever, and though Hermann now seemed more than fairly suspicious of what exactly was _in_ the special recipes Newt kept swearing by, he always drank the cups gratefully. As 2024 came and went and the double-event date loomed, Hermann was practically hunched over from the weight of the insomnia, chronic pain, and responsibility he shouldered. The anxiety potions, though Hermann didn't know them as such, sometimes seemed like the only thing keeping Hermann from collapsing in exhaustion. 

“Drink up,” Newt said, putting a cup of tea on Hermann’s desk. He sipped at one himself, sighing in relief as he felt the Draught of Peace do its work. He normally didn’t partake, as he could barely gag the stuff down no matter how much sugar he added to it, but he’d needed it with the pressure Pentacost was putting on them to finish their final reports.

Hermann grimaced, but sipped at his tea. “As usual, this is the most disgusting thing I have ever tasted.”

“Special recipe,” Newt said, hiding his smile behind his cup of tea. It quickly turned into a frown as he choked down the drink.

Hermann rolled his eyes. “Whatever you are trying to imply with that statement, I do not believe it for a second. You know, I’ve more than once considered the possibility that you’ve been slipping me drugs in this tea. I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“And yet you still drink it,” Newt noticed, a grin forming on his lips. “Hermann, you _troublemaker_ , you are knowingly drinking potentially drugged tea! I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Lord knows I need this right now, no matter what drugs are in it,” Hermann muttered. “I take that as a confession, by the way: I _knew_ you were spiking this with something.”

“Sure I am,” Newt said easily. “But not with drugs, dude, I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Hermann seemed startled by the confession, looking at Newt curiously. “Well may I ask what with?”

“You may,” Newt said cheekily. “But I don’t know if I’ll answer.”

Hermann watched him, seemingly amused as he sipped his tea. “You’re acting even more ridiculous than usual, Newton.”

“Yep!” Newt said. He was filled sudden cheer at Hermann being so close to him and so relaxed, at having almost finished the preparations for his drift machine. He wanted to kiss Hermann, to tell him everything, and as Newt spoke his earnestness filled his words with a nervous, happy energy. “Tell you what, Hermie. Let’s save the world first, then I’ll tell you what’s in that tea, okay?”

Hermann’s gaze softened and Newt could imagine kissing him right there. His eyes drifted down to Hermann’s lips as the other man answered softly, “Alright.” Seeing where Newt’s eyes were focused, Hermann’s cheeks flushed with color and the other man swallowed heavily. “Yes, alright,” Hermann said again, even more quietly this time.

  _Holy shit_ , Newt thought, unable to think or do anything more than that as, at that moment, both his and Hermann's cell phones went off. Newt groaned, standing up straight and putting his head in his hands to muffle the sound.

“We’re needed,” Hermann said, checking his phone. “New Kaiju organs ready for transport.”

“Yeah,” Newt sighed, shelving whatever had just happened between them for later inspection. “Yeah, okay. Both of us?”

“We _are_ both K-Science, Newton,” Hermann said, getting to his feet to stand beside him. “And as much as I don’t want to be near this Kaiju brain, I’d rather be there to make sure you don’t do anything _immediately_ stupid upon seeing it.”

“A brain? They got me a brain?”

“Newton,” Hermann growled. “I know what you’re thinking and I insist you abandon that train of thought, for your own sake.”

Newt grinned. “Aw, Hermann, you do care.”

Hermann only raised an eyebrow at Newt before walking out of the lab, leaving Newt to catch up with him.

 

Drifting was truly the best example of why Newt had spent so much of his life immersed in the Muggle world, despite the questioning looks it’d gotten him from other wizards. With nothing but technology, determination, and a ticking clock, Muggles had invented _mind melding_. Even magic hadn’t been able to approximate that kind of connection between two people. Memory sharing with a Pensieve was a passive experience at best and the closest thing to truly reading someone’s thoughts, Legilimency, was too dark and invasive to be anything close to the experience of a mental handshake. Simply put, drifting was Muggle curiosity and creativity beating magic, fair and square. When Newt had first read about it he’d gotten the same fluttering feeling in his gut as when he'd first started to study Magizoology, that feeling of _I need to be a part of this._ Drifting was the perfect place for magic and science to come together in a grand show that only Newton Geiszler could orchestrate.

So of course he was still going to drift even though Pentacost had vetoed it. That was a decision he’d already made long ago and Newt was a Slytherin for a reason: no one could stop him from doing what he needed to do. And so he did it, using magic to steal the materials and then finally finishing his machine. Hermann’s concern was actually grounded in logic, as a regular Pons wouldn’t have been able to connect Newt’s brain with a Kaiju’s, but Newt had been tinkering with the magical capabilities of drifting for months now. He’d had a hell of a time with it, because technology and magic really did not want to get along even at the best of times, but in the end he’d managed a stable integration of the two that would, hopefully, allow him to drift with a Kaiju without dying.

Well. Hopefully. Newt held the control panel in one hand and his wand in the other. Neither would do him much good once he initiated the drift, but it was for his own comfort more than anything else. Newt had wanted desperately to confess everything to Hermann in his scientific log, but told himself that he’d be able to tell him in person, after this worked. It _would_ work: he was Newton Geiszler, one of the best wizards of his age, and he was going to drift with a Kaiju. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the button, crying out in pain as he completed the neural handshake. After the initial memories, wave after wave of horror and sensation broke over Newt before he finally succumbed to it, the feeling of his body collapsing to the floor only a background occurrence as Newt plunged into the hive mind.

He came back to himself gradually, eyes fluttering and vision presenting him with overlapping scenes of Hermann clinging to him, and the vivid, blue Anteverse. Newt fervently hoped it was the first one that was real, relief flooding through him when Hermann called his name.

“H-Hermann,” Newt gasped, desperately holding onto Hermann with one hand, pressing his face into Hermann’s jacket. His other hand was currently clutching his wand in a death grip. When Newt looked down at the wand it was emitting dull sparks, likely the aftermath of the havoc the drift had wrought upon his mind. Newt frowned, trying to consciously stop the sparks, sighing in relief when the wand sputtered out. A bulb had burst overheard and papers were torn and scattered about the lab and, yeah, that was probably Newt’s bad. His magic felt fragile, it was trembling in him right now and Newt tried to mentally soothe it. When he felt a little bit less like he was going to accidently start the lab on fire, he glanced up, almost afraid to see what Hermann's reaction would be. Hermann was openly staring at the wand in his hand, his mouth parting open as recognition flashed in his eyes. Newt winced and threw the wand aside as he tried to sit up.

“Newton,” Hermann warned, but helped him into a chair. Newt’s hands were shaking and he couldn’t get his eyes to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. Hermann, on his part, was stuck gazing at the wand, his lips pursed in concentration. “I’ve seen that before,” he said. “In Melbourne? But…you weren’t there…I swear, you couldn’t have been there, you were in _Sydney_.”

“I was there,” Newt breathed, clutching at his stomach as he tried not to throw up.

Hermann was speechless before Newt and, sorry Hermann, but Newt didn’t have time for a grand revelation right now. “Get Pentacost,” he said, putting his head in his hands as he tried to remember what it was like to only have two arms and one set of teeth.

Later, after Pentacost had given Newt his marching orders, Hermann quietly approached him, Newt’s wand in his hand.

Newt’s mouth fell slightly open. The sight of his wand in Hermann’s hand was a strange one, a collision of the two worlds he’d been trying – and failing, a bit, he could admit it -- to keep separate for his entire time at the PPDC. A wizard’s wand was something personal and private, but Newt couldn't help but feel safe with it in Hermann’s grasp. He was so engrossed in staring at Hermann’s hand, which unknowingly held a piece of Newt that no one else had known so well, that he started when Hermann cleared his throat. Newt flushed, barely able to meet Hermann’s eyes. “Hermann,” he started, unsure of what to say, before Hermann interrupted him.

“You can explain later. And you _will_ explain later this time.” Hermann gave Newt a stern look that made him wonder how much of Melbourne Hermann had managed to figure out while Pentacost was talking. “For now, if you truly intend on meeting a crime lord in the boneslums, you should probably have your…”

“Wand,” Newt supplied, cringing when Hermann paled and cast his eyes skyward. “Sorry,” Newt said, easing the wand from Hermann’s slack grip.

“I’m beginning to regret not allowing you to explain now,” Hermann said, his voice strained. “Though I expect the end of the world is hardly the best time to ask for clarification. Just…go, and we’ll talk later.”

Newt nodded. “Okay, okay. Yeah, that sounds good. Okay, so, I was going to wait until I was outside of the lab before I disappeared ‘cause I don’t want to freak you out, but should I still do that now that you know? Wait. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that because I was going to explain this all to you later. I’ve just been wanting to talk to you like this for awhile is all. Maybe years.” Newt groaned to himself. What little ability he had at censoring himself about his magic and his feelings was slipping now that Hermann knew at least a portion of the truth.

Hermann sighed. “Why does it not surprise me how awful you are at this?”

Newt winced. “Yeah, it probably shouldn’t. I kind of suck at keeping secrets.”

“You’ve barely managed this long, you oaf,” Hermann said, but his smile was soft and fond as he looked at Newt. “Go ahead and…disappear, or whatever it is you do. I suspect that I have already witnessed it once before anyway. A second time shouldn’t matter.”

Newt rolled his eyes. “‘Oaf.’ Jesus, Herm.” He cracked a smile at Hermann and the astonished ‘o’ that the mathematician’s mouth formed was the last thing Newt saw as he disapparated before Hermann's eyes.

           

Drifting with Hermann wasn’t exactly how Newt had planned to explain the wizarding world to him, but giving Hermann a long, thorough talk about it was a luxury he didn’t have at the moment. But Hermann was doing this _for him_ and _with him_ , and when they grasped each other’s hands, Newt knew that that remained true no matter what memories rose to greet them once they’d slapped their Pons caps on.  Still, Newt wished he could’ve given Hermann some kind of heads up before they dove into each other’s memories, but with the brain decomposing so rapidly, there was nothing left to do but initiate the drift.

Memories of getting his first wand – _9 and a half inches, inflexible, walnut, dragon heartstring, but all Newt could hear was the word ‘dragon’ as his mouth gaped open in astonishment_ – and of the day before he joined the PPDC – _they tried to use the dragons against the Kaiju, they didn’t_ listen _to Newt when he told them it wouldn’t work and now it was useless, entire species of dragons turned endangered because of wizard hubris and God, Newt had_ raised _some of those dragons_ – intermingled with Hermann’s memories of getting his eyes tested _– unbelievable, all of his work and effort and he couldn’t be a pilot because of his_ sight _of all things, Father had known this would happen, he’d always known Hermann wouldn’t make it_ \--  and of coding the first Jaeger – _this he could do, he knew that he couldn’t fight them directly, but he could do it in his own way, with math and engineering and science_ – before the two of them pushed into the center of the hive mind.

After Hermann vomited into the toilet and Newt handed him a handkerchief, the lingering connection between them signaling him to do so before he’d even consciously thought about it, Hermann turned to Newt. “You’re…you’re a…”

“The plan,” Newt reminded Hermann, and Hermann nodded, seeming to push the revelation aside for now.

“It’s not going to work.”

“We need to get over there right now. Hermann, do you trust me?”

Hermann seemed to already sense what Newt intended to do and glanced between him and the helicopter hesitantly before nodding. “Just hurry up,” he sighed.

Newt quickly ran over to the helicopter and dismissed the pilot who was waiting for them. And, okay, _maybe_ he _suggested_ that he and Hermann actually were coming back in the helicopter, and couldn’t the pilot see that they were already strapped in, waiting to go? Newt could practically feel Hermann’s disapproval from here. But the spell would wear off within the hour without the pilot remembering a thing and Newt was trying to save the world here, so Hermann really just needed to get on his level.

When Newt came back to Hermann, Hermann glanced between the wand and the disappearing helicopter and Newt snapped, “I’ll explain all of this later, okay? But we need to get going. Are you ready, dude?”

He held out his fist and this time, with the help of Newt’s memories, Hermann managed to bump it weakly before clinging to Newt’s arm. Hermann shut his eyes tight and muttered, “Get it over with,” and Newt apparated them both back to just outside LOCCENT.

 

After the end of the world, shockingly enough, did not happen, Hermann and Newt ended up standing side by side in the LOCCENT control room. Newt’s arm was still slung over Hermann’s shoulder, Newt relishing the contact as relief and happiness flooded through him at the success of Operation Pitfall. His arm slipped away as Hermann turned to face him and Newt suddenly realized how little space there was between them. Their heads were so close, foreheads barely touching. Newt sighed at the luxury of having Hermann standing so intimately before him, of finally being able to touch him. Newt didn’t hesitate before resting his hand lightly on the nape of Hermann’s neck and Hermann’s eyes slid down to Newt’s lips before coming back to rest on his gaze.

“I do believe you still owe me an explanation,” Hermann murmured, pressing his forehead against Newt’s.

 “Huh? Oh right, that, yeah. Totally,” Newt said, still a bit dazed from the whole drifting-with-a-kaiju-and-almost-being-eaten-and-drifting-with-the-love-of-his-life-who-was-now-pressed-up-against-him-and-knew-that-he-was-a-wizard-but-seemed-to-be-okay-with-it…thing. “Can I kiss you first?” Newt blurted out, and Hermann rolled his eyes.

“If you must,” he said, though he was smiling softly, the small stretch of his lips lighting up his face like a supernova. Newt whooped as he planted both hands on Hermann’s face and kissed him firmly, fully intending to get a bit of tongue action on the LOCCENT deck. Of course, Newt was unable to stop smiling for long enough to turn it into much of a proper kiss, but he could remedy that later. The kiss ended up being brief but nice, sweet as Hermann’s soft lips pressed against his.

“About time,” Tendo muttered from a few feet away. Newt laughed into the kiss, ruining it as he was unable to stop from giggling at the beet red color Hermann’s face was turning.

“Explanation, Newton,” Hermann said shortly, trying to be stern with Newt. It wasn’t very effective considering that Hermann was still smiling and Newt could literally _feel_ Hermann’s happiness flowing through him like an electric current.

“My room or yours?” Newt asked with a waggle of his eyebrows.

Hermann groaned before taking Newt’s hand and dragging him out of LOCCENT, waving an impatient hand to the few cheers that were directed their way. They ended up going back to Hermann’s room, with Hermann collapsing on the bed as soon as they arrived. “ _Gott_ , Newton,” he sighed, closing his eyes as he massaged his thigh, “if you do not have a potion for my knee in the morning, you may have to go down to the lab without me.”

“Uh, yeah, sure. I’ll go back to my room and get some later. You know, you’re taking this all very well,” Newt said carefully. “I was expecting like…I dunno, for you to have some kind of scientific freak out when I told you, to be honest.”

Hermann glared at him. “So you _were_ going to tell me eventually, how reassuring.”

“Well yeah! I wasn’t going to start, you know, this,” Newt said, gesturing vaguely between them, “without you knowing. It wouldn’t be fair to you. And I’ve been wanting to tell you for awhile anyway, so it looks like it all worked out in the end!”

“Yes, it did,” Hermann said, smiling at Newton. “I must say, it’s surprising how much of your behavior is explained by you being a wizard. And how much of it isn’t.” He snorted. “As it turns out, your natural personality is far stranger than your…” Hermann elected to wave his hand vaguely instead of saying the word ‘magic.’ “Though I suppose it’s reassuring to know that you’ve been putting potions in my tea all these years instead of recreational drugs.”

“I can’t believe you think I would drug you, dude.”

“If we use the technical definition of the word drug, you actually did.” Hermann raised an eyebrow. “Come on, Newton. Your ‘special recipe?’ Honestly, what else was I going to think? You are _terrible_ at lying, I’m amazed that I never discovered your secret before today.”

“Uh…” Newt said, not able to _quite_ look Hermann in the eye.

Hermann’s eyes narrowed. “Newton.”

“Well…”

“ _Newton_ _!”_

“It’s kind of a funny story, really-”

Hermann sighed, burying his face in his hands. “This is not the first time I’ve discovered you, is it?”

“…No,” Newt admitted with a wince.

“Of course. You _idiot._ So what, why don’t I remember that? Did you enchant me like you did with that helicopter pilot?”

“…Maybe. It was only one time!” Newt added hastily, desperate to get rid of the grimace marring Hermann’s face. “I didn’t wipe your memory completely if that makes you feel any better. Oh shit, who am I kidding, it probably doesn’t. Okay, but it was totally warranted because you just barged into my room after my cauldron exploded and I didn’t have an explanation and you were looking at me like I was a crazy person, so I panicked and I may have…Confunded you a bit. A bit! I just suggested that you'd dreamt the whole thing, it’s not that big a deal!”

Hermann gaped at Newt as if wondering precisely which part of that explanation to attack first. Finally, he settled for saying, “I think I would clearly remember a dream where I walked in on you and an _exploded_ _caludron!_ ”

“Well I’m not a _moron_ , Hermann, of course I charm my cauldron, so that when people like you come barging in my room they don’t see it for what it is!” Newt shouted. “You probably only remember dreaming about an exploded hot plate.”

“I…I do remember that!” Hermann exclaimed, his expression thunderous. “You _imbecile._ You’re the one who’s too foolish and outrageous to keep even the simplest of things hidden even _with_ the help of your… _whatever_ , and _I’m_ the one who suffers for it? Unbelievable, an entire evening of my life _rewired_ because of you.” Newt had been slowly shrinking away from Hermann during this tirade and now could only look helplessly at Hermann, unsure of what to say. Before Newt could open his mouth to attempt to speak, Hermann said, “What else?”

“What…else?” Newt said cautiously.

“What else, what else have you done to me?” Hermann said between clenched teeth. “Or was drugging my tea and messing with my memory enough for you?”

“Nothing, I’ve done nothing else to you!” Newt shouted. “Jesus, Hermann, do you really think that I’d just cast spells on you all the time like it’s a joke? I know you think that I take nothing seriously, which is only because you hold me in comparison to you and you’re literally the most uptight person ever, but even I know that you don’t just do that to your friends. Okay, did I turn your chalk into toads once? Yes, totally, and I don’t regret it, because chalk is screechy and loud and outdated, and you’re a weirdo for still using it. Did I hex your chalkboard? Yes, and I don’t even feel bad, because again, _loud. Outdated._ And yeah, okay, I mixed a few potions into your tea when you were feeling sick or stressed, but you should be _thanking_ me for that, even if I also slipped you a Hiccuping Draught that one time. But in my defense, you were being a total asshole that week, and yeah, I still feel kind of bad about it, but whatever. Anyway, my _point_ is that even though I may have used a bit of magic on you in the past, it was never anything _serious_. I wouldn’t do that to you, man.”

Hermann’s face twisted through a litany of expressions during Newt’s speech, turning from incredulous to murderous to tender and finally settling on something that seemed like exasperation. Newt didn’t even know that people could _make_ facial expressions that fast.

“It has been serious though, Newton. Melbourne was serious,” Hermann said finally. “If that truly happened as I remember it."

“Oh right, sue me for saving your life, _sorry_ , Hermann, for using magic on you so that I could get you to freaking _safety_ , whatever, it’s not like-”

“Newton!” Hermann said and Newt’s mouth fell close with a click. Hermann stood and approached Newt, looking briefly at the ground before nodding and taking Newt’s hand in his own. “I apologize. When I say that Melbourne was serious, I don’t say it to blame you. Rather, I want to…thank you. For, er, doing that for me.”

 “Of course,” Newt said, stroking his thumb over Hermann’s hand. This time it was Hermann who took the initiative to kiss Newt. The kiss was even briefer than their one in LOCCENT had been and was really more of a peck, but Newt was okay with that for now. Even that small kiss filled him with warmth, leaving him feeling light and stupidly happy. “As much as I love just standing here with you, can we sit down? I’m pretty much dead on my feet here.”

 “I would love nothing more,” Hermann said, pressing another light kiss to Newt’s lips before taking a step back. Frowning at Newt’s clothes, Hermann said, “But please take off your jacket first. It’s simply _filthy_ and I would rather it not touch my sheets.”

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Newt said, noticing for the first time the grime, dirt, and blood that’d accumulated on his clothes over the day. Newt felt Hermann’s own neat freak tendencies buzzing in the back of his mind and made a face at his sudden urge to clean. He took out his wand, pointed it at himself, and muttered, “Tergeo.” He nodded in satisfaction as the stains vanished from existence. After a moment of thought, he took off his glasses and tapped those with his wand as well, slipping them into his pocket after they repaired themselves. “There, good as new!” Newt said to Hermann, only to find that the other man was staring blankly at him. “Hermann?”

“I…may be having that scientific freak out right about now,” he replied faintly.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry. I’m really not giving you, like, any kind of an adjustment period here, am I?” Newt steered them both towards the bed and, after taking his and Hermann’s shoes off, lay them both down on top of the sheets. Newt quickly took Hermann’s face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together, keeping his eyes trained on Hermann’s as he did so. “It’s all good, Herm,” he said, breathing deeply, feeling gratified when Hermann copied the rhythm of his breaths. “Just a bit of magic, that’s all. I can do your clothes too, if you want.” After a few more deep breaths, Hermann nodded tightly. Newt could feel Hermann observing him as he muttered another cleaning charm. Hermann's clothes dried instantly, the dirty water and filth disappearing right in front of Hermann's eyes. 

After staring at his clothes for a long moment, Hermann looked at Newt's wand, seemingly transfixed by the sight. He cleared his throat and said, “That was…”

“Magical?” Newt suggested, grinning when Hermann gave him a poke in the ribs for the remark.

“It’s good to know that your insufferable need to show off is constant even when you’re being a…wizard.” Hermann said the word disdainfully and gave Newt a long suffering look as he did so, as if Newt had created the idea of wizardry just to mess with Hermann’s view of the world. Which, to be fair, did sound like something that Newt would do.

“Good job, Hermann, you said the word, we’re finally getting somewhere.” Newt stuck his hand out. “Newton Geiszler: wizard, biologist, Magizoologist, Kaiju groupie, part-time Slytherin, and just generally the smartest person in both the wizarding and non-wizarding worlds.”

 Hermann rolled his eyes but shook Newt’s hand before wrapping an arm around him to draw them closer together. “Dr. Hermann Gottlieb: non-wizard-”

“Muggle,” Newt supplied, and Hermann sighed, his face scrunching in distaste for the word.

“ _Muggle_ , physicist, mathematician, and the smartest person in the _actual_ world. And it would seem I am also now the partner of an incorrigible wizard who doesn’t know how to keep a secret.”

Newt grinned. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” For a moment they lay there silently, Hermann’s hand rubbing soothing rhythms across Newt’s back. Newt couldn’t stop staring at Hermann’s face, smiling at the realization that he didn’t _have_ to stop himself from looking at Hermann’s anymore. Newt took that moment to finally indulge in touching Hermann’s hair, sighing happily as he ran his had through the short, soft strands. “This is nice,” he said. Hermann nodded in agreement and Newt's smile widened.

“We saved the world, Hermann," Newt said. "Holy shit, we actually did it.”

“I believe Mako Mori and Raleigh Becket had a part to play as well.”

“Yeah, well, they can have some of the glory too I guess,” Newt yawned. “Can we go to sleep now? I really want to kiss you and hug you and all that, but I might actually die if I stay awake any longer.” He smiled when Hermann made a sleepy hum of approval, his eyes already slipping closed before Newt finished his sentence. Bursting with happiness, Newt curled up even closer to Hermann and threw an arm around his middle. “I can have my owl back,” he murmured, nuzzling against Hermann’s chest. “And my dragons. I'll have my owl and my dragons and Hermann Jr. and you. I get _all_ of you.”

“You are either delirious or talking about something magical. Either way, it can wait until tomorrow,” Hermann said in an exhausted mumble. Newt pressed his lips against Hermann’s nose before closing his eyes. They both fell asleep within minutes, their clothes still on and Newt’s glasses still hanging from his shirt pocket.  

 

Newt awoke the next morning to find Hermann leaning against the headboard and carefully examining Newt’s wand. Newt couldn’t help but stare as Hermann absently ran his fingers down its length, his pale fingers long and elegant against the dark walnut. Hermann's curious exploration of the patterns carved into the wood seemed almost like a caress to Newt and he found his mouth going dry at the sight. Hermann was _touching_ his wand, and as much as Newt wished that were a euphemism, this somehow felt far more intimate and personal than sex.

Hermann glanced down at him and looked a bit guilty at having been caught with the wand. Newt grinned. “I see you’re touching my wand,” he said casually. He winked and Hermann groaned.

“I can’t believe I’ve resigned myself to a lifetime of this,” Hermann said.

“Love you too, Hermann,” Newt yawned, sitting up to kiss Hermann when the other man flushed lightly pink. Newt touched the edge of Hermann’s lips, where a small, shy smile had formed. “I do,” Newt insisted, running his thumb across Hermann’s cheek.

“I, ah…feel the same,” Hermann stuttered out, staring at Newt as if it were him that was the marvel. Newt laced their hands together and Hermann seemed to belatedly realize that he was still holding Newt’s wand. The other man blushed and thrust the wand back into Newt’s free hand.

As much as Newt mourned the sight of it in Hermann’s thin, long fingers – and he _truly_ did – he enjoyed having his wand back in his own hands, its weight a comfort in his grasp. Newt began to twirl it absentmindedly before catching Hermann staring at the wand with wonder. “You probably have more questions,” Newt realized guiltily, aware that he hadn’t been doing that great a job when it came to easing Hermann gently into the magical world.

“Plenty,” Hermann said. “An entirely new layer to the world has been uncovered for me, Newton, and I have to say that I'm still reeling a bit. Worse, that layer was uncovered by someone I’d simply known as being a cute, irritating genius, who, in reality, was spiking my tea with potions for the entirety of our acquaintance. I have _many_ questions, which I will ask and you will answer in great detail. Later. For now, I would be satisfied if you could, erm, show me.” Hermann nodded towards the wand and continued, curiosity evident in his voice. “I would like to see… _it_ when I am not enchanted, barely conscious, or exhausted to the point of collapse due to a drift with a Kaiju brain.”

That seemed pretty fair to Newt, who, despite being magical, was a man of science just as much as Hermann was, and could understand the urge to study something so new and seemingly impossible. After all, Newt had studied the Kaiju. Still, instead of communicating his agreement with Hermann’s request, Newt found himself saying, “You think I’m cute?”

Hermann rolled his eyes but smiled softly at Newt. “Of course I do, you idiot.”

Newt kissed Hermann hard on the lips before gripping his wand. “Okay then, the best magic this side of the Pacific coming right up for the cutie sitting next to me!” Newt bounced with energy and summoned a potions flask from his room, handing it to Hermann. “Oh, that wasn’t the magic,” Newt said as Hermann’s eyes widened. “I just thought you might want that for your leg. Actually, give me some too, I’m dying after yesterday.”

Hermann nodded and they both took a sip, sighing as it soothed their weary muscles. Newt hesitated, unsure of what to do next. “So…what kind of magic do you want to see then? What should I do?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Herman said, throwing his arms up in the air. “I don’t even know what’s _possible_ anymore.”

Newt grinned. “Basically anything. Anything is possible. Okay, so how about something romantic? Flowers? I can do flowers, I’ll make you flowers. Orchideous!”

Hermann blinked in surprise when flowers sprouted out of the end of Newt’s wand. He hesitantly plucked a tulip and twirled it in his fingers. “Not bad,” he admitted. “Though, to tell the truth, I’ve also seen that trick performed by children with beginner’s magic kits, so I’m not sure whether that qualifies as the ‘best magic this side of the Pacific.’”

Newt poked Hermann hard for his teasing tone before plucking the tulip out of his grasp and throwing it aside. Newt pulled Hermann in close and kissed him, sighing when Hermann ran his tongue across Newt’s lips. “Why are you such an asshole and why is it so sexy?” he groaned, pulling back from the kiss to try to compose himself. “You can’t kiss me like that and expect me to keep doing magic afterwards, it’s just unreasonable.”

“Then perhaps you should impress me quickly so I can return to kissing you,” Hermann said, his eyes twinkling at Newt's frustration. “You _live_ to impress, Newton, this shouldn’t be hard for you.”

Newt wasn’t sure he had ever been as turned on in his life as he was right now. “Oh, I’ll impress you, Herm,” he said with a smirk. Nodding to himself, Newt focused on the memory of the smile that was perched on Hermann’s lips after they’d first kissed, and said, “Expecto Patronum.”

Newt grinned as a silvery, gleaming mink emerged from his wand and darted around the room. Hermann seemed fascinated, unable to take his eyes off the creature as it bounded towards him in a manner that could only be described as playful. “What is this?” Hermann said, his hand passing through the patronus as he tried to touch it. Hermann’s lips quirked upwards in a smile when the mink perched on his lap. “It’s…nice.”

“It’s a patronus,” Newt explained. “Kind of like a happiness charm, but more protective. It’s mostly used against these awful creatures called Dementors. _Really_ awful, like worse than lethal. That’s why we learned to conjure these at school.”

“Ah,” Hermann said. “And it’s impressive magic, I suppose?”

“Well, it’s pretty advanced, yeah, but that’s not why I’m showing you it. A patronus is a different animal for each person, you know? It’s personal. So I just…wanted to show you mine,” Newt said, reaching a hand out to touch the smoky warmth of the patronus’ shape.

Hermann smiled down at the mink. “I’m grateful. Thank you.” After a moment of contemplating the mink, Hermann asked, “Does it mean anything in particular, what kind of animal it is?”

“Kind of?” Newt said. “It’s like your soul, kind of, but not really because it can change sometimes, and it doesn’t really represent who you as a person as much as it represents, like…your happiest self, I guess.”

“And your happiest self is…a ferret?”

“European mink, you dick,” Newt said, throwing his wand aside, causing the mink in question to disappear. He climbed on top of Hermann, careful not to put any weight on the other man’s leg. “Leave the taxonomy to the biologist, m’kay?” He kissed Hermann deeply and it quickly grew into something far more passionate than their previous kisses, needier and more desperate. Newt didn’t bother to smother his moan as Hermann’s tongue spread out against his own, the sound only encouraging Hermann to apply his tongue more thoroughly to the inside of Newt’s mouth. Newt tried to keep up with the ferocity of the kiss, licking his way into Hermann’s own mouth and relishing the sound of Hermann’s gasp. God, the _noises_ Hermann could make. It was enough to make Newt pull back and groan before crushing their lips together once more, the second kiss building upon the intensity of the first. Newt felt dizzy from lack of air and the sheer happiness that rose inside of him like champagne bubbles.

After a moment, Hermann pulled away, panting for air and cradling Newt’s face, his eyes shining with lust and adoration. “Thank you for showing me your patronus, Newton,” he breathed, kissing Newt sweetly before pressing their foreheads together.

“That’s not all I’ll show you,” Newt said with a cheeky grin, kissing Hermann before the man even had a chance to roll his eyes.

“So lewd,” Hermann admonished, breaking the kiss, though the efficacy of his words was diminished by the fact that he was currently struggling to remove Newt’s shirt. Newt didn’t have the patience to wait for Hermann to work out the buttons, pushing Hermann’s hands aside so that he could remove Hermann’s own layers instead. He practically ripped the shirts off, leaning down and sucking Hermann's nipple as soon as the mathematician's chest was bare.

“Oh, _Jesus_ , Newton,” Hermann said, clinging at Newt’s arms. Newt hummed, swirling his tongue around the nipple and groaning when he felt it harden, Hermann gasping beneath him. Newt lapped lightly at the nipple before suddenly sucking hard, the sound of Hermann shouting with pleasure sending a rush of blood down to Newt’s cock.

When Newt tried to turn his attention to the other nipple, Hermann snarled and grabbed his arms to keep him in place. “Shirt. Off. Now,” he said, and Newt was only too happy to comply with Hermann’s voice so low, so shaky, and so utterly _wrecked_.

Shirt off, Newt was more than ready to get back at it, but Hermann held him back with a hand on his shoulder. A frown was forming on Hermann's face as he stared at Newt’s chest, his eyes wide. Hermann seemed unnaturally still as he ran his eyes across Newt’s body, the desperation he’d shown only a moment ago replaced by shock.

“What? Am I bleeding or something?” Newt said, looking down at himself before wincing. _Oops_ , he thought as he watched his tattoos move lazily across his skin. He didn’t think anyone could blame him for having forgotten to charm his tattoos in the madness of the past few days, but it still didn’t change how strange it was to have someone other than Newt observe their movements. Newt and Hermann both watched as the shapes shifted and swirled, the colorful ink rich and bright against Newt’s flushed skin. The most vivid of the inks migrated down to where Newt’s hands were touching Hermann and where Hermann was touching his hips.

Newt blushed. “Oh, uh, sorry about that, I kind of forgot about those. If it’s too weird I can put a shirt on? Or if you give me a second I can charm them again so they won’t move, just hold on a sec-”

Before Newt could move to get off of the bed, Hermann crushed their lips back together, moving his hands to stroke Newt’s chest possessively. “Do not get off this bed, Newton Geiszler,” he growled into Newt’s mouth and Newt felt his knees go weak at the order. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to hear Hermann boss him around in their lab again without immediately getting a boner.

“Holy shit, get your pants off _now_ , Hermann, now now now,” Newt panted, feeling light headed with want as he quickly divested himself of his own pants and boxers. Unable to wait until Hermann dealt with his clothing, Newt took them off for him, his mouth practically watering as Hermann’s cock bobbed out of his underwear. Newt couldn’t help but nuzzle it a bit and Hermann gasped before roughly pulling Newt back on top of him.

“Oh God,” Newt wimpered as Hermann lined up their bodies, sliding them together so that their skin could touch as much as possible. Newt carefully lowered his weight onto Hermann, his eyes fluttering shut at the heat of Hermann's skin, how good it felt against his own. He felt electric, flooded with a rush of feeling and sensation even more daunting and gripping than magic. “Oh my God, Hermann-”

“Newton,” Hermann breathed, his hands unable to keep still as they moved across Newt’s back, his arms, his face, his stomach, his thighs. Newt’s tattoos were positively buzzing with energy, colors and patterns swirling across Newt’s body in a frantic haze as he and Hermann finally moved against each other. Newt cried out in relief when their cocks met, each brush of Hermann’s dick against his sending a jolt of white-hot pleasure through him. He sucked at Hermann’s neck, licking and kissing him and feeling positively desperate as he coaxed little hitches of breath out of Hermann. After so long of wanting this, Newt wanted to shout with how good it felt to have Hermann’s hands touching him _everywhere_ , caressing and stroking and fluttering all over his body. Hermann’s hands trailed across Newt’s back before grabbing firmly at his buttocks, fingers tantalizingly close to Newt’s asshole. Newt couldn’t help but think of how Hermann’s long fingers had trailed over his wand earlier and he ground his hips harder against Hermann’s. Hermann groaned and bucked his hips in response, squeezing Newt’s ass hard before moving his hands away. Newt whined at the lack of contact as Hermann reached into the draw of the bedside table, grabbing at some lube.

“Hermann,” Newt breathed as Hermann squeezed the lube onto his fingers. His eyes were transfixed by the sight of Hermann's slick, wet fingers. “You have no idea how much I want you to fuck me right now and how much I want to fuck you and how much I want to blow you and, oh God, basically _everything_ , but I can’t wait right now, I can’t-”

Newt cried out when Hermann’s hands slid down his cock, the wetness and warmth of his firm grasp sending an electric current down Newt’s spine. “I know,” Hermann said, sounding just as debauched as Newt felt. “I know.”

They were totally in sync, Newt realized, and not just because of any residual drift between them but simply because this was what drift compatibility _was_ : arguing in the lab like it was a choreographed dance and silently sitting side by side in the mess hall at 3AM because they both had shitty sleep schedules and moving together like _this._ Newt struggled to keep his eyes open as he moved against Hermann, their cocks sliding smoothly together as Hermann pumped them both, flooding Newt’s abdomen with heat with each stroke. He needed to _see_ Hermann, see his eyes completely focused on Newt’s as they breathed together, hips moving in tandem, Hermann’s mouth falling open as he panted with want. His mouth was red and bruised from kissing and Newt couldn’t keep his eyes off of it.

“You’re magical,” Newt breathed as he kissed Hermann, unable to coordinate anything more than a slide of lips against lips. He keened when Hermann deepened the kiss, tightness gathering in Newt’s spine and legs as Hermann practically devoured him.

Hermann pulled away and panted, hands moving to clutch at Newt’s sides. “I-I think you may have us -- _ah_ , yes keep moving like that, don’t stop – mixed up there.”

“I don’t, I don’t,” Newt said, too breathless and desperate with want to communicate with words how he’d initially thought that Hermann’s math _was_ magic, how he still thought it was, how Hermann somehow changed the nature of the space in a room so that it seemed to bend towards _him_ , putting him at the center. But all he could do was gasp, “I don’t, I really don’t, Hermann, you’re the most magical person I know.” He thrust harder and faster against Hermann, Hermann’s grip on them both slipping and losing coordination as they focused on moving against each other, needy and panting. The pressure building in Newt’s gut burst and spilled out into every part of him, overflowing his body with a tight, hazy heat. Newt gasped, crying, “Hermann, fuck, Hermann, I’m coming.” He was dizzy with feeling, his limbs electric and over-sensitive, but he quickly moved his hand to join Hermann’s on their cocks. Newt stroked Hermann as quickly as he could, mesmerized by Hermann’s open and panting mouth as Hermann’s orgasm followed shortly behind Newt’s.

Newt hovered over Hermann, both of their bodies twitching through the aftershocks. Hermann was trying to catch his breath and Newt could sympathize, feeling more than a bit dazed himself. “Magical,” Newt slurred, pressing a clumsy kiss to Hermann’s lips before settling down beside him. “Need cuddles though," he said, not having the breath to say much more than that at the moment. 

“So all this time, this was all I needed to do to shut you up,” Hermann laughed breathily, but he was pliant and warm as Newt nuzzled his way into his side. Hermann absently stroked Newt's arm, his eyes following the other man's tattoos as they finally began to calm their movements. The ink seemed content to settle closest to where Newt and Hermann’s skin was touching. Hermann smiled at seeing the tattoos move to their points of contact, but stiffened against Newt as his eyes traveled up Newt's side. 

“What is it?” Newt mumbled, squirming to see what Hermann was looking at. He blinked in shock as he realized what'd surprised the mathematician so thoroughly. Where Hermann’s hand was resting against Newt’s ribs, green and yellow swirls of ink had migrated off of Newt’s body and onto Hermann’s. The tattoos danced happily over Hermann’s fingers, circling his wrist playfully.

Newt sat upright and gaped at the ink that was spreading itself lazily over Hermann’s fingers. “I…I didn’t know they could do that,” he said, marveling with delight at the sight of his tattoos on Hermann's body.

Hermann frowned. “This isn’t permanent, is it?”

“I don’t think so? Hold on.” Newt held Hermann’s hand in his own, kissing it briefly before concentrating on the thread of magic that connected his tattoos to him. Tugging it slightly, Newt soothed the ink and allowed it to filter down to the tips of Hermann’s fingers and migrate back onto his own hands. “See? No problem. Sorry about that, I had no idea that could happen.”

“No, it’s…” Hermann coughed. “That is, I don’t mind.”

Newt grinned and let one of the tattoos slip back onto Hermann’s hand. “You totally love it, don’t you?”

“I certainly do not. And if you intend to leave these things on me,” Hermann said, raising his hand and scowling at the patterns situated there, “you should not expect a repeat performance of what we just did.”

“Yeah yeah, okay, Hermann,” Newt said absently, eyes drifting away from the tattoos as a new idea formed in his head. Ignoring Hermann’s protests, Newt jumped out of bed and retrieved his wand from where he’d thrown it. Climbing back into bed, Newt forced Hermann to lie down completely before joining him. “Now, I know that you don’t find minks or flowers all that impressive, for _some_ reason, but I’ve finally thought of something that’s going to knock your socks off.”

Hermann smiled at him fondly. “You don’t have to look very far for that,” he said, brushing his hand against Newt’s.

“Ugh, have I told you yet that I love you? I really really do. But I want to show this to you,” Newt said. “I want to give it to you. Just watch.” Newt waved his wand at the ceiling of the room and darkness bloomed against it as the night sky swirled into existence above them. Stars blinked into being as the concrete faded into black, distant space. “It’s not the actual night sky,” Newt admitted. Constellations began to form overhead, brighter and larger than their real life counterparts in the Hong Kong sky. “It’s just an illusion. But it’s pretty cool, huh? You’re a space geek, you _have_ to be impressed with this one.”

Newt looked over to find Hermann mesmerized by the ceiling, his face lit the soft glow of the stars that shone above them. “It’s amazing, Newton,” Hermann breathed. Though he had no doubt studied those same constellations countless times, Hermann looked at the sky as if it were something completely new to him. Newt grinned and kissed him lightly before settling back on Hermann’s chest, content to watch his tattoos move across Hermann’s skin as Hermann watched the stars.

           


End file.
